, BY  ' 

W I LXvI  AM  HALL . 


ART  BOOKS 

LcsAngaSast  CatiL  i 


“ J* 


i 


A BIOGRAPHY 

OF 


DAVID  COX. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/biographyofdavidOOhall 


A BIOGRAPHY 


DAY  ID  COX: 

WITH 

Remarks  on  His  Works  and  Genius. 


WILLIAM  HALL. 

EDITED,  WITH  ADDITIONS,  BY  JOHN  THACKRAY  BUNCE. 


Cassell,  Petter,  G-alpin  a-  Co.: 


LONDON ; PARIS  $ NEW  YORK. 
1881. 


[all  rights  reserved.] 


EDITOR’S  PREFACE. 


In  the  introduction  prefixed  to  his  work,  Mr.  William 
Hall,  the  Author  of  this  Memoir  of  David  Cox,  has 
explained  the  motive  which  led  him  to  undertake  the 
task,  and  also  the  qualifications  he  possessed  for 
executing  it.  Long  and  close  intimacy  with  Cox,  during 
the  whole  period  of  the  artist’s  residence  at  Harborne, 
afforded  his  Biographer  special  opportunities  of  learning 
the  history  of  his  friend,  of  studying  his  works  and  his 
method,  and  of  forming  an  estimate  of  his  genius.  It 
was  not  as  a person  uninstructed  in  Art,  or  as  an 
amateur,  that  Mr.  Hall  entered  upon  the  work.  He 
was  himself  an  artist  of  long  experience  and  of  no  mean 
capacity — one,  indeed,  from  whom  David  Cox  did  not 
disdain  to  receive  suggestions  as  to  the  choice  and  treat- 
ment of  his  subjects,  and  hints  as  to  the  method  of 
painting  in  oil  colours.  To  his  technical  knowledge, 
Mr.  Hall  added  the  advantages  derived  from  a large 
acquaintance  with  books  and  men,  and  these  were 
enhanced  by  singular  modesty  of  character,  refinement 
of  taste,  and  by  a poetic  temperament,  united — a rare 
combination  — with  sound  practical  judgment.  The 
counsel  and  sympathy  of  such  a man  were  of  great 
value  to  one  so  sensitive,  retiring,  and  self-distrustful 
as  was  David  Cox  ; and  the  unbroken  friendship  and 


VI 


EDITOR’S  PREFACE. 


unreserved  confidence  of  thirty  years  attest  the  estima- 
tion which  Cox  placed  upon  this  association  with  his 
friend  and  Biographer. 

A brief  notice  of  the  Author  may  not  be  unaccept- 
able to  readers  of  the  Memoir.  Mr.  Hall  was  born  in 
Bristol  Street,  Birmingham,  on  the  18th  of  January, 
1812.  His  father  was  a worker  in  fancy  tortoiseshell 
— a trade  then  largely  practised  in  the  town,  but  now 
almost  wholly  extinct — and  to  him  William  Hall  was 
apprenticed,  and  served  out  his  time  as  a tortoiseshell 
worker.  He  disliked  the  occupation,  for  he  had  long 
cherished  a desire  to  become  a painter,  and  had  been 
quietly  teaching  himself  the  elements  of  landscape  art. 
The  father,  however,  objected  to  the  young  man’s  pro- 
posed change  of  plan ; but  seems  ultimately  to  have 
given  way,  and  with  the  assistance  of  his  uncle,  Mr. 
Henry  Edwards,  one  of  the  leading  silversmiths  of 
Birmingham,  William  Hall  was  enabled  for  a brief 
period  to  carry  on  his  art  education  in  London.  He 
went  there  in  1834,  and  spent  some  time  in  copying 
portraits  in  the  National  Gallery,  especially  those  by 
Beynolds  and  Gainsborough,  for  whose  works  he  had 
a particular  affection.  After  a year’s  residence  in 
London,  he  returned  to  Birmingham,  and  began  to 
employ  himself  as  an  artist,  receiving  help  in  this  way 
from  some  of  the  .local  painters,  and  from  amateurs, 
notably  from  Mr.  Charles  Hawker  (who  largely  assisted 
in  forming  the  famous  Gillott  collection  of  pictures), 
and  from  Mr.  Zachariah  Parkes,  whose  daughter  he 
afterwards  married.  This  marriage  took  place  in  1841, 


EDITOR’S  PREFACE. 


Vll 


by  which  time  Mr.  Hall  had  fairly  begun  to  establish 
himself  as  a landscape  painter.  He  exhibited  chiefly  in 
Birmingham,  and  occasionally  in  London,  but  his  works 
were  usually  executed  for  commissions  given  by  friends 
who  could  appreciate  his  merits.  In  1852,  he  was 
elected  a member  of  the  Birmingham  Society  of  Artists, 
and  for  many  years  acted  as  its  curator.  He  was  also 
honorary  curator  to  the  Corporation  Art  Gallery  of  the 
town.  He  died  on  the  24th  of  April,  1880,  at  his 
house  at  King’s  Heath,  near  Birmingham.  The  finishing 
touches  to  his  Memoir  of  David  Cox  were  given  only  a 
few  weeks  before  his  death. 

Mr.  Hall  painted  comparatively  little  : not  more, 
probably,  than  half  a dozen  landscapes,  of  cabinet  size, 
in  the  course  of  a year.  These  he  often  kept  a long 
time  in  his  own  hands,  being  fastidious  as  to  finish  and 
expression.  His  works  have  about  them  a charming 
outdoor  freshness,  and  a certain  poetical  quality,  very 
difficult  to  describe,  but  at  once  recognised  in  the 
pictures  themselves.  One  of  them,  a view  from  the 
door  of  Bettws  Church,  painted  in  company  with  David 
Cox,  and  now  in  the  Birmingham  Art  Gallery,  is  a 
good  example  of  his  style.  The  chief  occupation  of 
Mr.  Hall’s  life,  however,  was  that  of  an  adviser  of 
picture  buyers  who  desired  to  form  choice  collections. 
In  this  capacity  he  was  invaluable.  His  fine  taste,  and 
large  knowledge  of  art,  made  him  an  admirable  guide 
as  to  the  merit  of  the  selected  works,  while  his  high 
sense  of  personal  honour  and  his  unvarying  honesty 
insured  his  clients  against  the  too  frequent  tricks  of  the 


Vlll 


EDITOR’S  PREFACE . 


picture  market.  All  who  had  business  relations  with 
Mr.  Hall  knew  that  they  could  trust  his  judgment  and 
his  honesty,  and  he  thus  acquired  a large  connection  as 
an  adviser  and  a dealer.  He  had  great  skill,  also,  in 
the  restoration  of  works  of  art,  and  was  much  employed 
in  this  direction. 

For  his  personal  qualities  Mr.  Hall  was  held  in 
esteem  by  all  those  who  knew  him,  and  in  affection 
by  those  who  knew  him  well.  He  was  a man  of 
amiable  character,  kindly  and  generous — one  of  those 
who  had  no  enemies,  nor  ever  spoke  or  thought 
unkindly  of  others.  Though  a reserved  man — ex- 
tremely reticent  with  regard  to  himself — he  was  a 
great  favourite  in  the  society  he  frequented ; having  a 
keen,  quiet  humour,  untouched  by  malice,  being  cour- 
teous in  manner,  and  invariably  thoughtful  of  others. 
The  attractions  of  his  conversation  were  considerable, 
for  he  had  read  much  and  with  profit,  and  his  own 
original  powers  as  a writer,  both  in  prose  and  in  refined 
and  graceful  verse,  were  far  above  the  average.  One 
of  the  great  pleasures,  as  it  was  one  of  the  distinctions, 
of  his  life,  was  his  intimacy  with  David  Cox.  The  two 
men  suited  each  other  as  perfectly  in  habit  and  tempera- 
ment as  in  occupation ; and  from  the  date  of  Cox’s 
settlement  at  Harborne  until  the  period  of  his  death, 
they  were  constantly  in  association,  visiting  at  each 
other’s  houses,  and  travelling  together  on  sketching 
tours  in  Wales.  Long  before  the  picture-buying  public 
recognised  the  surpassing  merit  of  Cox’s  work,  Mr. 
Hall  discerned  it,  and  laboured  hard  to  inspire  others 


EDITOR’S  PREFACE. 


IX 


with  the  feeling  of  enthusiasm  which  animated  himself. 
It  was  a source  of  happiness  to  him  in  his  closing 
years — often  broken  by  painful  illness — that  he  had 
lived  to  see  the  greatness  of  Cox  admitted ; and  it  was 
one  of  his  consolations  to  have  prepared  a memorial  of 
his  friend,  in  the  hope  that  it  might  one  day  see  the 
light.  In  this  work  the  reader  will  feel,  with  the 
writer  of  these  lines,  that  Mr.  Hall  has  done  justice  to 
the  genius  of  David  Cox,  and  has  left  a not  unworthy 
memorial  of  himself. 


J.  THACKRAY  BUNCE. 


Birmingham , February,  1881. 


AUTHOK’S  PBEFACE. 


This  Biography  was  commenced  about  ten  years  after 
the  death  of  David  Cox  in  1859,  and  was  carried  on 
towards  completion  as  opportunity  offered,  and  as  the 
Author  felt  disposed  to  pursue  his  labours.  For  a time 
it  was  laid  aside,  circumstances  occurring  which  led  him 
to  think  his  work  would  not  be  required ; but  the 
exhibition  of  the  Artist’s  productions  in  Liverpool,  by 
the  Art  Club  in  that  town,  in  1875,  for  the  catalogue 
of  which  the  Author  was  invited  to  write  an  introduc- 
tion, together  with  other  considerations  it  is  not  neces- 
sary to  mention,  induced  him  to  take  * it  up  again,  and 
bring  it  into  its  present  form.  The  MS.  has  been 
revised,  considerable  additions  have  been  made  since  it 
was  first  written,  and  much  has  been  re-composed. 

From  the  Author’s  intimate  friendship  with 
David  Cox,  during  his  residence  at  Harborne,  and  up 
to  the  time  of  his  death,  he  had  frequent  opportunities 
of  hearing  from  the  Artist’s  own  lips  the  particulars  of 
his  history  and  artistic  career,  and  of  noting  much  that 
exemplified  his  character  and  illustrated  his  genius. 
He  is  also  indebted  to  Cox’s  old  friend  and  pupil,  the  late 
Mr.  Edward  Everitt,  of  Birmingham  ; to  Mr.  Charles 
W.  Badclyffe,  another  old  and  attached  friend ; and  to 
others,  for  information  respecting  the  Artist’s  early  days. 


xii  AUTHOR’S  PREFACE. 

Such  matters  as  the  Author  conceived  would  interest 
the  public  regarding  the  uneventful  life  and  career  of  a 
man  who  was  enthusiastically  devoted  to  his  art,  who 
lived  in  a quiet,  unobtrusive  manner,  and  was  rarely 
drawn  aside  from  his  beloved  pursuit,  he  has  noted 
down,  in  the  hope  of  affording  pleasure  to  those  who 
may  care  to  read  the  biography  of  an  artist  of  acknow- 
ledged genius,  whose  productions  have  done  much  to 
elevate  British  art  in  the  world’s  estimation ; and  also 
to  aid  as  an  encouragement  to  young  aspirants  for 
renown  who  may  be  endeavouring  to  follow,  though 
they  can  scarcely  hope  to  rival,  David  Cox  in  the  same 
profession. 

WILLIAM  HALL. 


Mayfield,  King’s  Heath,  near  Birmingham, 
February,  1880. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTEE  I. 

1783  to  1804, 

PAGE 

The  Birth,  Parentage,  and  Early  Years  of  David  Cox— His  Apprenticeship 
to  a Miniature  Painter — Brush- washer  and  Scene-painter  at  the  Bir- 
mingham Theatre — W.  C.  Macready,  the  Tragedian  ....  1 


CHAPTEE  II, 

1804  to  1814. 

Eemoval  to  London — Marriage  and  Early  Struggles — Appointed  Drawing- 

master  at  the  Military  College  at  Farnham  . . . . .13 

CHAPTEE  III. 

1814  to  1827. 

Eesidence  at  Hereford,  and  Work  Done  There — Drawing-hooks  Published 
— Views  of  the  City  of  Bath — Illustrations  for  the  “ History  of  War- 
wickshire ” — First  Trip  to  the  Continent  ......  28 

CHAPTEE  IV. 

1827  TO  1841. 

Eetum  to  London,  and  Second  Eesidence  There — Professional  Pursuits — 
Another  Continental  Trip — Sketching  Excursions  into  Yorkshire, 
Derbyshire,  to  the  Lakes,  and  Elsewhere — Takes  Lessons  in  Oil- 
painting  from  Miiller — Quits  London  for  Harborne,  near  Birmingham  43 


XIV 


CONTENTS . 


CHAPTER  Y. 

1841  to  1845. 

PAGE 

Residence  at  Harborne — Artistic  Pursuits — Sketching  Trips  into  York- 
shire and  Wales,  Conway,  Llanbedr,  Bettws-y-coed — Death  of  Mrs. 

Cox 63 

CHAPTER  VI. 

1846,  et  seq. 

The  Flood  at  Corwen — Bettws-y-coed — The  “ Royal  Oak  ”...  75 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Bettws-y-coed  ( continued ) — Cox  at  the  “ Royal  Oak  ” ....  87 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Cox  at  Bettws-y-coed  ( continued )■ — Sketching  Trips  in  the  Vicinity — Bad 

Weather  ............  100 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Work  Done  at  Home — Cox’s  Industry  and  Self-reliance — Range  of  Sub- 
jects— Characteristics  of  His  Works— His  Three  Distinctive  Styles  . 117 

CHAPTER  X. 

Home  Life — “ Friends  in  Council ” — “The  Skylark”  . .131 

CHAPTER  XI. 

His  Methods  of  PaintiDg  in  Water-Colour  and  in  Oil  ....  145 

CHAPTER  XII 

His  Position  as  an  Artist — Serious  Attack  of  Illness  . . .155 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

1855. 

Visit  to  Edinburgh — His  Portrait  Painted  by  Sir  J.  W.  Gordon,  R.A. — 
Presentation  of  it  at  Metchley  Abbey,  Harborne — Engraved  by  S. 

Beilin — Bust  by  Peter  Hollins  (posthumous)  . . . ; .167 


CONTENTS. 


xv 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

1858—9. 

PAGE 

Last  Visit  to  London,  and  to  Bettws-y-coed — Illness  and  Death — Funeral 

in  Harbome  Churchyard — Memorial  Window  in  the  Church  .177 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Characteristics  as  a Man — Interior  of  his  House — Dress  and  Appearance  . 190 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

His  Artistic  Characteristics  and  Distinguishing  Merits  . . .205 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Remarks  in  Conclusion — Influence  of  His  Works  and  Genius  on  the  Land- 
scape Art  of  this  Country,  and  on  the  Public  Taste  . .219 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Special  Exhibitions  of  His  Works — Liverpool  Art  Club  Banquet  225 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Supplementary  Notes — Cox’s  Character  and  Habits — His  Great  Contem- 
poraries— His  Birmingham  Friends  — His  Opinions  upon  Art — 
Extracts  from  His  Letters — Prices  of  His  Pictures — Present  Collec- 
tions of  Them — Sales — Engravings — Chronology  of  His  Life.  &c.  . 234 


■ 


DAVID  COX. 


CHAPTER  I. 

1783  to  1804. 

The  Birth,  Parentage,  and  Early  Years  of  David  Cox — His  Apprenticeship  to  a 
Miniature  Painter — Brush-washer  and  Scene-painter  at  the  Birmingham 
Theatre — W.  C.  Macready,  the  Tragedian. 

In  reading  the  biography  of  an  eminent  man — as  in 
following  the  onward  course  of  some  famous  river — it  is 
always  delightful  to  note  and  dwell  upon  the  first  start 
in  existence  ; to  contemplate  the  fount  and  cradle  of  life 
and  being — the  circumstances  of  birth  and  parentage — 
the  surroundings  of  infancy — the  indications  of  early 
boyhood — the  first  inflection  of  the  mind  pointing  to  the 
future  course,  long  before  that  course  has  been  marked 
out  by  strong  desire,  by  will,  by  moulding  circumstance, 
and  augmented  power,  compelling  it  to  take  its  final 
direction.  The  stream — it  may  be — wells  forth  in 
some  sequestered  spot — shady,  obscure,  untraced,  and 
unknown — bubbling  up  among  stones  and  mosses,  sur- 
rounded with  reeds  and  bracken,  creeping  for  a time  along 
its  tiny  channel,  just  tinkling  among  the  pebbles.  After 
a while,  by  numberless  tributaries,  its  volume  increases  ; 
it  begins  to  grow  stronger,  and  cheerily  leaps  along  its 

B 


2 


DAVID  COX. 


bed,  singing  sweet  songs  as  it  goes  ; until  at  length  it 
swells  and  widens,  and  dashes  impetuously  on  its  way — 
a mighty  river — seen  and  known  by  all,  bearing  with  its 
course  beauty  and  strength  and  blessing  for  all  within 
reach.  It  is  pleasant  in  like  manner  to  trace  the  life- 
stream  of  one  destined  to  become  famous,  from  the  cradle 
of  existence  ; to  note  the  surroundings  of  early  days  ; 
to  mark  the  first  bias  of  the  young  mind  indicating  its 
future  and  ultimate  direction  ; to  note  the  impediments 
in  its  way — the  obstacles  to  be  encountered  and  tri- 
umphantly overcome  by  persistence,  a stout  heart,  the 
sense  of  power  daily  growing  stronger,  the  consciousness 
of  success  in  view,  and  the  prospect  of  a brilliant  future, 
and  then  the  steady  march  forward  to  the  end  ! 

David  Cox,  whose  genius  and  whose  exquisite  tran- 
scripts of  Nature  have  earned  for  him  a foremost  place 
among  the  creators  of  a School  of  English  Water-Colour 
Painters,  was  a native  of  Birmingham.  He  first  saw 
the  light  of  day  on  the  29th  of  April,  1783.  He  was 
born  of  humble  parents,  in  a very  unpretending  abode, 
situated  in  Heath  Mill  Lane,  Deritend — a suburb  of  the 
great  Midland  metropolis.  The  house  stood  not  very 
far  from  a well-known  ancient  inn,  called  the  “ Old 
Crown,”  still  existing — a notable  specimen  of  half- 
timbered  work,  and  which,  as  a mansion  of  considerable 
importance,  attracted  the  notice  of  Leland,  when  he 
visited  Birmingham  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  Cox’s 
humble  birthplace,  however,  and  all  the  adjacent  tene- 
ments of  that  date,  have  been  swept  away  to  make  room 
for  the  requirements  of  our  modern  civilisation.  Even 


HIS  FATHER  AND  MOTHER. 


3 


the  street  itself  has  disappeared  ; nothing  remains  but  its 
name,  and  the  picturesque  half-timbered,  heavy- gabled, 
ancient  inn,  which  for  so  many  years  has  been  a con- 
spicuous object  at  its  southern  corner. 

Joseph  Cox,  the  father  of  David,  was  twice  married. 
By  his  first  wife,  Frances  Walford,  who  was  the 
daughter  of  a farmer  and  miller  of  Birmingham — the 
same  Walford  who  built  the  windmill  (remembered  by 
many)  that  crowned  the  summit  of  a gentle  elevation 
looking  down  upon  one  of  the  town’s  ancient  road- 
ways, called  Holloway  Head — he  had  two  children — a 
daughter,  Mary  Ann,  who  was  married  to  Mr.  Ward, 
Professor  of  Music,  residing  at  or  near  Manchester ; and 
David,  the  subject  of  this  biography.  His  occupation 
was  that  of  a whitesmith,  in  contradistinction  from  that 
of  a blacksmith,  or  shoer  of  horses.  He  was  a forger  of 
bayonets  and  gun-barrels,  as  well  as  being  a general 
artificer  in  iron.  His  son  has  said  that  when  he  first 
visited  London  to  obtain  employment  as  an  artist,  he 
sometimes  held  in  conversation  the  sentries  who  patrolled 
before  the  Government  Offices,  to  detect,  if  he  could,  his 
father’s  private  mark  on  the  muskets  they  carried.  It 
was  intended  that  David,  when  old  enough  to  wield 
hammer  and  file,  should  be  brought  up  to  his  father’s 
trade ; and  it  is  believed  that  for  a short  time  he 
actually  worked  at  the  anvil  and  bench ; but  he  was  a 
weakly  boy,  not  at  all  fitted  for  so  laborious  a craft. 
The  “ Divinity  that  shapes  our  ends  ” was  exemplified 
in  the  fife  of  young  David  Cox.  He  might  have  stood 
at  the  anvil  until  old  and  grey-headed — a smith,  like  his 


4 


DAVID  COX. 


father  ! Until  the  end  of  his  days  he  might  have  been 
a forger  of  implements  of  warfare — a maker  of  holts  and 
bars — and  have  stood  at  the  fire,  girt  with  leather  apron, 
hammer  or  tongs  in  hand.  But  this  was  not  to  he.  An 
accident,  sad  at  the  time,  but  happy  in  its  issue, 
determined  otherwise.  In  early  youth,  the  lad  stumbled 
over  a door-scraper  in  the  evening  dusk,  and  broke  his 
leg ; and  this  caused  the  poor  little  cripple  to  divert  his 
thoughts  into  another  channel.  Great  were  the  lamen- 
tations of  his  friends  at  this  untoward  accident,  which 
was  looked  on  as  a permanent  misfortune.  It  was 
evident  that  all  ideas  of  David  following  his  father’s 
business  must  be  abandoned.  He  had,  moreover,  greatly 
outgrown  his  strength,  and  the  labour  of  the  forge  and 
workshop  was  held  to  be  too  trying  for  a constitution 
by  no  means  robust.  Some  other  occupation,  of  a 
lighter  kind,  was  therefore  desired  for  him.  The  broken 
limb  compelled  the  boy  to  keep  his  bed  for  several 
weeks,  tying  quiet  and  unmoved,  till  the  fracture  had 
united ; but  so  soon  as  he  was  permitted  to  sit  up, 
propped  with  pillows,  for  a short  time,  he  began  to  cast 
about  for  something  with  which  to  amuse  himself,  and 
while  away  the  weary  hours.  A few  prints  were  given 
him,  to  interest  and  occupy  his  mind.  He  had  pre- 
viously shown  some  cleverness  with  his  pencil — just  a 
child’s  very  small  ability,  frequently  made  so  much  of 
by  a fond  parent’s  love — and  he  expressed  a wish  to 
copy,  with  pen  or  pencil,  some  of  the  prints,  for  his 
amusement.  His  friends  complied  with  the  request, 
and  he  was  furnished  with  the  necessary  materials. 


HIS  FIRST  DRAWINGS  : BOYISH  EFFORTS. 


5 


Little  David  went  to  work  with  a will,  and  soon  pro- 
duced two  or  three  drawings,  which  mightily  pleased 
his  parents,  who  no  doubt  thought  them  quite  wonderful 
for  a child  of  his  tender  years.  Seeing  what  he  could 
do,  so  quickly  and  so  cleverly,  a relative  presented  him 
with  a box  of  colours  and  some  brushes.  Oh,  the  happy 
day ! Who  does  not  recollect  his  first  colour-box, 
and  the  pleasure  of  contemplating  the  rows  of  pretty 
pigments  which  lay  side  by  side,  ready  for  use  ? 
The  young  artist  painted  away  with  great  delight  and 
perseverance,  and  in  no  long  time  achieved  a number  of 
small  successes.  His  friends  were  delighted  with  his 
productions ; they  even  ventured  to  predict  that  in  course 
of  time,  with  practice  and  study,  he  might,  if  he  chose, 
become  an  artist  of  celebrity.  But  they  had  many 
misgivings  in  discussing  the  subject.  We  may  conceive 
the  anxious  debates  which  took  place  in  the  family  circle 
night  after  night,  when  David’s  future  course  came  up 
for  consideration.  Was  it  possible  for  him  to  maintain 
himself  respectably  by  his  pencil,  if  he  took  up  the 
profession  of  a painter  of  pictures?  Ought  he  to  be 
encouraged  to  follow  the  bent  of  his  inclination  in  a 
a pursuit  which,  in  his  surroundings,  promised  so  little  ? 

We  may  well  fancy  the  boy’s  parents  discussing 
his  prospects,  as  he  lay  suffering  from  his  broken  limb, 
and  as  the  result  of  the  discussion  leaving  them  to 
time  and  chance,  he  still  going  on  executing  the  poor 
little  works  of  art  which  afforded  him  so  much  delight. 
These  humble  achievements  of  his  boyish  skill  were 
sometimes  sold  to  friends  for  trifling  sums,  which 


6 


DAVID  COX . 


pleased  his  parents,  and  afforded  the  young  painter 
no  small  encouragement.  Something  must  be  done, 
however,  and  therefore  it  was  at  length  determined 
that  he  should  receive  a few  lessons  in  drawing  at 
a night  school  kept  by  Mr.  Joseph  Barber,  of  Bir- 
mingham, a competent  drawing-master  and  artist.  With 
the  exception  of  two  or  three  lessons,  in  after  years, 
from  that  admirable  master  of  water-colours,  Mr.  John 
Yarley,  the  instruction  David  Cox  received  in  drawing 
whilst  at  this  night-school  of  Mr.  Barber’s  was  all 
he  had.  For  the  rest  he  was  indebted  solely  to  him- 
self— to  the  gifts  with  which  he  was  endowed  by 
nature;  to  the  study  of  the  works  of  masters  of  the 
art  which  came  in  his  way;  to  a close,  intelligent 
observation  of  the  beauties  of  nature ; to  constant 
practice,  and  to  a stout  heart. 

The  proficiency  of  the  young  artist  under  the  in- 
struction of  Mr.  Barber  was  considered  so  satisfactory, 
that  at  the  usual  age  he  was  apprenticed  to  a miniature- 
painter  in  Birmingham,  a man  named  Fieldler,  and 
by  him  was  taught  to  execute  subjects  for  lockets, 
and  for  the  lids  of  snuff-boxes,  which  at  that  time 
gave  employment  to  many  persons  in  the  town.  These 
subjects  were  frequently  taken  from  the  pictures  of 
Teniers,  Ostade,  and  other  painters  of  the  Dutch 
School,  and  were  views  in  Holland,  with  out-of-door 
merry-makings ; cottage  interiors,  with  boors  drinking, 
smoking,  and  playing  at  cards ; quarrelling  peasants, 
armed  with  drawn  knives  and  three-legged  stools ; 
heads  of  burgomasters,  after  Rembrandt;  and  subjects 


SCENE-PAINTER  AT  TEE  THEATRE. 


7 


of  a similar  kind.  It  may  be  taken  for  granted  that 
young  David  delighted  in  copying  these  pictures  ; it 
was  an  occupation  congenial  to  his  taste ; moreover, 
it  put  a liftle  money  in  his  purse.  He  felt  that  he 
was  beginning  to  earn  a living  by  his  pencil,  and 
doubtless  thought  he  saw  his  way  to  prosperity  at  no 
distant  period.  But,  unfortunately — or,  looking  at  his 
future  career,  shall  we  not  rather  say  most  fortu- 
nately?— for  him,  before  he  had  been  very  long  ap- 
prenticed, his  master  died.  The  poor  man  committed 
suicide,  and  poor  David  was  cast  loose  upon  the  world 
without  an  occupation.  What  a blow  to  his  towering 
hopes  and  expectations  this  unlooked-for  event  must 
have  been ! Ho  doubt  he  considered  his  once  fair 
prospects  of  becoming  an  artist  had  vanished  for  ever. 
How  long  he  remained  in  this  sad  position  is  uncertain, 
but  after  a time,  and  through  the  instrumentality  of  a 
relative — the  same  who  had  presented  him  with  the 
colour-box  when  confined  to  his  bed  with  a broken 
limb — he  was  offered  employment  at  the  Birmingham 
Theatre,  then  under  the  management  of  the  elder 
Macready,  as  assistant  to  a M.  de  Maria,  scene-painter 
to  the  company,  a person  of  considerable  ability  in  his 
line.  Cox's  work  was  to  grind  colours,  wash  brushes, 
prepare  canvas,  and  do  what  else  in  a general  way 
might  be  required  in  the  scene-painter's  loft.  The  offer 
now  made  him  was  gladly  accepted.  He  thought  he 
saw  in  the  appointment  an  opportunity  for  further 
advancement  in  the  art  he  loved,  and  entered  on  his 
duties  with  an  eager  relish  for  the  work,  looking 


DAVID  COX. 


S 

forward  to  the  time  when  possibly  he  might  become 
as  clever  as  his  employer,  and  some  day,  perhaps, 
master  scene-painter  himself.  Little  David  laboured 
assiduously  in  his  new  vocation,  and  watched  with  an 
attentive  eye  De  Maria’s  method  of  working,  and  all 
the  expedients  to  produce  “ effect”  in  his  scenery, 
•of  which  afterwards  David  Cox  was  so  great  a master 
himself.  He  thought  highly  of  his  employer’s  skill, 
not  only  at  that  time,  but  to  his  latest  days,  and 
often  spoke  of  him  in  eulogistic  terms,  saying,  in  his 
cheery  way,  “De  Maria  was  a very  clever  fellow  in- 
deed ! ” Many  years  after  Cox  had  left  the  theatre, 
when  he  had  become  a member  of  the  Society  of 
Painters  in  Water-Colours,  and  an  exhibitor  in  their 
rooms,  he  was  one  day  strolling  through  the  gallery, 
the  Exhibition  being  then  open,  when  he  saw  an  elderly 
gentleman,  catalogue  in  hand,  looking  admiringly  at 
one  of  his  drawings.  Cox  recognised  in  the  visitor  his 
old  master  at  the  Birmingham  Theatre,  De  Maria,  and 
addressed  him  by  name,  but  was  evidently  forgotten. 
Cox  inquired  if  he  did  not  remember  “ one  David  Cox, 
a very  young  artist,  who  resided  in  Birmingham  many 
years  ago?  ” “ What ! little  David,  who  used  to  wash 

brushes  and  grind  colours  for  me  at  the  theatre  ? ” 
“Yes;  I am  little  David.”  “Did  you  make  that 
drawing  ? ” pointing  to  the  one  he  had  been  admiring. 
“ I did,”  said  Cox ; “ I learned  a great  deal  from  you , 
sir.”  “ Then  I have  a great  deal  to  learn  from  you 
now  !”  rejoined  the  old  man ; and  both  master  and  pupil 
were  well  satisfied. 


PAINTS  AN  ACTRESS'S  PORTRAIT. 


9 


After  Cox  had  been  employed  some  time  in  this 
humble  capacity  at  the  theatre,  he  was  suddenly  and 
unexpectedly  called  upon  to  try  his  “ ’prentice  hand  ” in 
the  production  of  a hit  of  original  scenery.  His  master, 
De  Maria,  was  absent  from  the  theatre  on  account  of 
illness ; a new  piece  was  being  prepared  for  the  stage ; 
and  a portrait  of  the  heroine,  an  important  feature  in 
the  performance,  was  required  to  be  exhibited  during  the 
play.  Search  was  made  among  the  scenery  in  stock,  hut 
nothing  suitable  could  be  found.  The  manager  was  at 
his  wits’  ends ; he  knew  not  what  to  do.  Young  Cox, 
seeing  the  dilemma  Macready  was  in,  stepped  up  to  him 
and  said,  4 4 If  he  might  be  allowed  to  try,  he  thought  he 
could  execute  what  was  wanted.”  “ You  ! ” said  the 
manager,  with  indignant  surprise.  “ Yes,”  said  David, 
“I  think  I can  do  it.”  “Then  try,”  rejoined  the 
manager;  “ it  must  be  done!”  David,  who,  during  his 
apprenticeship  to  the  miniature  painters,  had  often 
executed  heads  of  a small  size  (one  of  which,  most 
beautifully  painted,  remains  in  the  possession  of  his  son) 
went  to  work  with  a will,  and  soon  produced  what  was 
required.  He  attentively  studied  the  actress  who  was 
to  personate  the  heroine  of  the  piece,  and  had  a sitting  to 
complete  the  likeness.  The  manager  was  much  pleased 
with  his  performance ; and  David  was  so  delighted  at 
his  success  that  when  the  play  was  acted  on  the  first 
night,  he  went  into  the  gallery  to  see  how  his  picture 
looked  across  the  theatre,  and  to  hear  the  commenda- 
tions bestowed  upon  it.  His  master,  De  Maria,  also 
complimented  him  on  his  skill. 


10 


DAVID  COX. 


How  long  Cox  remained  discharging  the  duties  of 
his  very  subordinate  position  is  not  exactly  known,  but 
after  a time  De  Maria  resigned  his  appointment,  and 
David  Cox  was  installed  in  his  place.  This  was  an 
important  step  in  the  young  artist’s  career ; it  gave  him 
fche  opportunity  of  practice,  which  he  specially  needed. 
With  Macready  and  the  players  he  travelled  from  town 
to  town,  visiting  Leicester,  Sheffield,  Manchester,  and 
other  places.  Occasionally  he  essayed  his  powers  as  a 
performer — of  course  in  very  humble  parts;  and  once, 
in  the  absence  of  the  regular  actor,  he  even  ventured  to 
aspire  so  high  as  to  undertake  the  important  character 
of  pantaloon  in  a pantomime ! Although  now  head 
scene-painter  to  Macready,  his  name,  as  being  of  no 
account,  was  never  mentioned  in  the  bills.  This  on 
one  occasion  gave  him  great  annoyance.  A new  piece 
was  to  he  brought  out ; large  posters  were  placarded 
about  the  town  ; and  advertisements  appeared  in  the 
papers  announcing  the  names  of  the  performers — all 
“ stars  ” of  the  first  magnitude ; with  “ entirely  new 
and  most  beautiful  scenery”  (the  work  of  poor  Cox), 
painted  by  the  unrivalled  artist,  Mr.  Daubeney,  of 
London ! David  Cox  was  completely  ignored ! On 
remonstrating  with  the  manager,  Macready  flew  into  a 
rage  (he  very  often  did),  and  told  him  to  “go  and  be 
hanged!”  “Who  was  he?”  “Did  he  suppose  that 
his  name  would  draw  the  public  P ” Cox’s  motto, 
“ Honour  to  whom  honour  is  due  ! ” was  laughed  to 
scorn,  and  he  retired  from  “ the  manager’s  room  ” an 
aggrieved  and  disappointed  man.  For  some  time,  how- 


W.  C.  MACREADY’S  TOY  THEATRE. 


11 


ever,  he  continued  to  follow  the  fortunes  of  Macready  as 
his  principal  scene-painter ; hut  his  parents,  fearing  that 
his  moral  character  might  suffer  from  his  connection 
with  the  players,  importuned  him  to  quit  the  theatre, 
and  give  his  attention  to  other  pursuits.  Cox  was, 
however,  bound  to  Macready  by  articles  of  agreement 
for  a stipulated  term,  and  the  manager,  unwilling  to 
forego  his  services,  flatly  refused  to  liberate  him.  Before 
long  David’s  mother  again  wrote  a very  pressing  letter, 
entreating  him  to  return  home.  Cox  dared  not  show 
this  letter  to  the  manager,  hut  read  it  to  Mrs.  Macready, 
thinking  doubtless  that  as  a mother  she  would  sympa- 
thise with  his  mother’s  anxieties,  and  besought  her  to 
use  her  influence  with  her  husband  to  obtain  his  release. 
Arguments  and  entreaties  at  length  prevailed.  The 
wife’s  appeal  soon  brought  about  the  desired  result,  and 
Cox  was  set  at  liberty. 

Young  Macready,  the  eminent  tragedian,  was  a boy 
at  Bugby  School  at  the  time  that  Cox  was  in  his  father’s 
employ,  and  had  a small  toy  theatre  constructed  for  his 
amusement,  for  which  Cox  painted  the  requisite  scenery. 
One  of  these  scenes  represented  a flock  of  sheep  being 
driven  to  market;  it  was  fixed  upon  rollers,  and  by 
turning  a handle  behind  was  made  to  move  forward,  so 
that  the  sheep  which  disappeared  on  the  one  side  quickly 
came  round  upon  the  other,  and  the  flock,  to  the  delight 
of  the  beholders,  seemed  interminable.  This  was  the 
contrivance  of  Cox,  for  which  he  received  great  praise 
from  Macready,  junior.  When,  a few  years  before  the 
death  of  the  artist,  it  was  proposed  that  a portrait  of 


12 


DAVID  COX. 


him  should  be  painted  by  an  eminent  hand,  to  he  placed 
in  some  public  institution  in  his  native  town,  and  for 
which  purpose  subscriptions  were  solicited  from  friends 
and  admirers,  the  author  of  this  Memoir  ventured  to 
apply  to  the  great  actor  (among  others)  for  assistance  to 
carry  out  the  project,  taking  the  liberty  to  remind  him 
of  early  days,  and  stating  that  David  Cox,  the  famous 
artist,  in  whose  honour  this  proposal  was  made,  was  the 
same  person  who,  in  the  days  of  his  boyhood,  was  colour- 
grinder  and  afterwards  scene-painter  at  his  father’s 
theatre  in  Birmingham.  The  following  reply  was 
received  by  the  writer: — 

Abergele,  N.  Wales,  July  3rd,  1855. 

Sir, — In  acknowledging  your  favour  of  the  28th  June,  forwarded 
to  me  here,  I beg  to  express  the  great  pleasure  I have  in  remember- 
ing my  early  acquaintance  with  Mr.  David  Cox,  and  the  gratification 
it  has  afforded  me  to  observe  his  rise  to  such  distinguished  eminence 
in  his  art. 

I beg  you  will  do  me  the  favour  to  convey  the  expression  of  my 
admiration,  with  my  best  wishes,  to  your  distinguished  townsman  ; 
with  which  I beg  to  enclose  my  subscription. 

I remain,  Sir, 

Your  very  Obedient  Servant, 

W.  C.  M ACRE  AD  Y. 


To  Mr.  Wm.  Hall. 


CHAPTER  II. 


1804  to  1814. 

Removal  to  London — Marriage  and  Early  Struggles — Appointed  Drawing* 
master  at  the  Military  College  at  Farnham. 

After  leaving  Macready  and  the  theatre,  David  Cox 
spent  some  little  time  in  Birmingham  with  his  parents, 
making  sketches  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  looking 
about  for  some  opening  by  which  to  earn  a living  by  his 
pencil.  He  had  a strong  desire  to  settle  in  London, 
where  he  hoped  to  meet  with  encouragement  in  the  pur- 
suit of  his  art ; and  having  a prospect  of  some  temporary 
employment  at  Astley’s  Circus,  he  left  his  native  town 
in  the  year  1804  to  seek  his  fortune  in  the  metropolis. 
On  his  arrival  in  London,  accompanied  by  his  mother, 
the  first  thing  done  was  to  look  for  comfortable 
lodgings,  and  these  were  met  with  in  Lambeth,  at  the 
house  of  a Mrs.  Ragg,  who  had  two  daughters  residing 
with  her,  one  of  whom — Mary  Ragg — Cox  was  destined 
to  fall  in  love  with,  and  eventually  to  marry.  Cox's 
practice  as  a scene-painter  had  rendered  him  expert  in 
the  use  of  the  pencil,  and  failing  to  obtain  at  Astley’s 
the  employment  he  had  expected,  he  resumed  his  old 
occupation  of  making  drawings,  which  he  offered  to  the 
London  print-sellers.  He  also  executed,  for  some  of 
the  provincial  theatres,  commissions  for  scenery  ; and 


14 


DAVID  COX. 


there  is  still  in  existence,  in  the  possession  of  Mr. 
John  Wood,  tobacconist  and  dealer  in  pictures,  of 
Wolverhampton,  a receipted  bill  of  his,  in  which  he 
charges  the  manager  of  the  then  theatre  at  that  place 
with  “ 310  square  yards  of  scenery,  at  four  shillings 
per  yard.” 

Cox’s  prices  for  the  small  drawings  he  sold  at  this 
time  were  curiously  low.  Two  guineas  per  dozen  was 
his  regular  charge  for  subjects  in  Indian  ink  or  sepia, 
which  were  disposed  of  by  the  dealers  to  country 
drawing  masters  chiefly,  who  visited  London  twice  a 
year  to  purchase  “ copies  ” for  the  use  of  their  pupils. 
Another  water-colour  painter  with  whom  Cox  formed 
an  intimacy  at  that  time  — the  great  architectural 
draughtsman,  Samuel  Prout, — was  then  likewise  occupied 
in  a similar  manner ; and  it  was  arranged  between  them, 
in  order  to  avoid  collision,  that  they  should  offer  their 
productions  at  different  shops,  Cox  keeping  to  one  shop 
and  Prout  to  the  other,  as  at  that  period  there  were 
only  two  places  of  any  note  at  which  a sufficiently 
large  stock  of  drawings  was  kept  to  afford  a choice 
to  customers.  A few  of  these  early  works,  by  both 
artists,  are  still  to  be  met  with.  In  wandering  through 
the  streets  of  London,  Cox  made  many  a halt  at  the 
windows  in  which  pictures  were  exhibited  for  sale, 
studying  attentively  the  best  of  those  productions,  and 
gathering  hints  for  his  own  practice.  Many  a 
pleasurable  half-hour,  as  he  has  often  said,  did  he 
spend  in  this  manner.  The  drawings  of  Havell  and 
John  Yarley  he  greatly  admired,  especially  those  by 


TAKES  LESSONS  FROM  JOHN  VALLEY. 


15 


the  latter  artist ; and  he  determined  ont  of  his  scanty 
earnings,  if  possible,  to  obtain  a few  lessons  from 
Varley.  The  terms  were  half  a guinea  a lesson — a 
large  sum  to  Cox  in  those  days  — but  he  was  fully 
aware  of  the  value  of  such  instruction,  and  resolved 
to  devote  the  little  money  he  could  spare  to  be  put 
at  the  outset  in  the  right  way.  Accordingly  he  called 
upon  Varley,  and  received  one  or  two  lessons,  for 
which  he  paid  the  customary  fee.  On  going  again 
for  another  lesson  Varley  said  to  him,  “ What  is  your 
object  in  coming  to  me  for  instruction?  Are  you  not 
an  artist?  ” “I  am  trying  to  be  one,”  replied  Cox.  “Oh, 
then  come  whenever  you  please  and  see  me  work,”  re- 
joined Varley;  “I  will  take  no  more  money  from  you .” 
Cox  always  expressed  a high  opinion  of  Varley ’s  abili- 
ties, and  often  spoke  with  emotion  of  his  great  kindness 
to  him  at  that  time. 

Notwithstanding  the  modest  manner  in  which 
David  Cox  spoke  of  himself  to  Varley,  as  “trying  to 
be  an  artist,”  he  had  firmly  resolved  in  his  own  mind  to 
become  one,  if  assiduous  study,  labour,  and  perseverance, 
could  make  him  one.  He  spared  no  pains  to  inform 
himself  of  the  principles  on  which  the  great  masters  had 
worked ; he  bought  engravings  from  their  productions, 
which  he  attentively  studied  ; and  he  diligently  copied 
pictures  as  opportunity  afforded.  He  told  the  writer 
that  he  once  made  a copy  of  a fine  landscape  by  Gaspar 
Poussin,  of  whose  works  he  had  a high  opinion.  The 
picture  could  not  be  removed  from  the  owner’s  posses- 
sion, and  he  went  day  after  day  until  his  task  was 


16 


DAVID  COX . 


completed,  painting  under  great  difficulties  in  a dealer’s 
shop. 

The  scenery  of  the  Thames  afforded  many  sub- 
jects for  Cox’s  pencil ; and  he  worked  industriously 
in  sketching  from  nature  in  the  environs  of  London, 
picking  up  quaint  rustic  bits,  and  drawing  picturesque 
old  buildings,  then  found  in  every  direction,  as  well  as 
in  delineating  the  more  captivating  features  of  rural 
landscape.  Many  drawings  of  this  character  were  made 
during  the  summer  and  autumn  of  1804. 

In  the  following  year  he  took  his  first  trip  into 
North  Wales,  and  visited  some  of  the  most  romantic 
spots  in  the  Principality.  The  sketches  he  made  on 
that  occasion  were  chiefly  in  outline,  and  in  Indian  Ink. 
The  author  has  possessed  one  of  the  pen-and-ink  draw- 
ings Cox  made  on  this  journey.  The  subject  is  a pic- 
turesque bridge  spanning  a river ; a rocky  height  on  the 
left,  a distant  mountain,  and  some  bushes  and  weeds  in 
the  foreground.  On  the  back  is  written,  “ Half  a mile 
from  Dinas  Mowddy,  July  17th,  1805.  D.  Cox.”  This 
sketch,  interesting  from  its  early  date,  is  in  the  posses- 
sion of  one  of  the  artist’s  enthusiastic  admirers,  Mr. 
Holbrook  Gaskell,  of  Liverpool,  to  whom  the  author  pre- 
sented it.  Cox  made  a considerable  number  of  sketches 
during  that  first  trip  into  Wales,  from  which,  on  his 
return  to  London,  he  executed  more  elaborate  drawings 
for  sale.  In  the  succeeding  year,  1806,  he  again  visited 
North  Wales,  accompanied  by  one  or  two  brother  artists, 
and  made  drawings  in  colours ; but  his  colours  were  few 
and  simple,  and  his  effects  of  course  were  not  very  striking. 


MABRIES  : SETTLES  AT  DULWICH : 1808. 


17 


Whilst  earning  a precarious  subsistence  by  making 
drawings  for  sale  to  the  dealers,  and  sometimes  painting 
scenery  for  the  provincial  theatres,  David  Cox  fell  in 
love  with  and  married  the  eldest  daughter  of  his  land- 
lady, Miss  Mary  Ragg.  This  was  in  the  year  1808. 
By  her  he  had  one  child,  the  present  Mr.  David  Cox. 
Mary  Ragg  made  an  excellent  and  loving  wife.  She 
was  somewhat  older  than  her  husband ; her  health  was 
not  strong;  but  she  had  intellectual  tastes,  and  en- 
couraged Cox  in  his  labours,  and  gave  him  steady  and 
helpful  support  in  the  many  trying  struggles  of  his 
early  married  life.  She  was  fond  of  painting,  more 
especially  of  the  works  of  her  husband,  and  the  author 
lias  seen  drawings  in  the  artist’s  possession  which  he 
declined  to  part  with  because  they  were  favourites  of 
his  wife’s,  and  had  the  name  of  “ Mary  Cox  ” written 
upon  them. 

Shortly  after  his  marriage  he  took  a small  cottage 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Dulwich,  and  there  resided 
several  years,  making  drawings  on  the  Common — at 
that  time  the  frequent  resort  of  the  gipsy  tribes — and 
from  the  surrounding  scenery.  . In  fact,  he  scoured  the 
country  in  every  direction  in  search  of  subjects  on  which 
to  exercise  his  skill.  Occasionally  he  paid  a visit  to 
Birmingham,  to  see  his  parents,  who  at  that  time  re- 
sided in  Hill  Street,  a short  distance  from  the  top,  oil 
the  right-hand  side,  where  the  present  Post-office  now 
stands.  Whilst  staying  there  he  made  sketches  in  the 
country  around,  picking  up  many  picturesque  subjects ; 
and  he  also  gave  a few  lessons  in  drawing  to  such  as 
c 


18 


DAVID  COX. 


were  desirous  of  availing  themselves  of  the  services  of 
a skilful  practitioner.  Mr.  Edward  Everitt,  afterwards 
a well-known  Birmingham  artist,  was  one  of  those  who 
received  instruction  from  Cox  when  visiting  his  father 
and  mother.  Mr.  Everitt  has  told  the  writer  that,  on 
one  occasion,  he  was  taking  a lesson  at  the  house  in 
Hill  Street,  David  Cox,  junior,  being  then  an  infant 
and  sleeping  in  his  cot  in  the  same  apartment,  when 
the  child  suddenly  woke  up  and  began  to  cry.  Ho  one 
else  being  there  to  attend  to  him,  Cox  left  his  seat, 
saying,  “ Excuse  me,  Edward ; I must  go  and  hush  the 
baby.”  With  varying  fortunes  Cox  pursued  his  art. 
His  struggles  to  acquire  a reputation,  and  even  to  live, 
were  sufficiently  trying,  but  he  stoutly  persisted  in  his 
endeavours ; and  although  often  disappointed,  and  some- 
times greatly  cast  down,  he  was  never  turned  aside 
from  his  aim.  In  all  his  difficulties  and  discourage- 
ments he  had  faith  in  himself.  Even  when  his  fortunes 
were  at  the  lowest  point — the  sale  of  his  little  drawings 
at  the  shops  providing  but  a scanty  subsistence — he 
contrived  to  keep  up  his  spirits  tolerably  well,  and  was 
never  disheartened  for  long.  Once,  however,  his  means 
were  nearly  exhausted,  and  the  prospect  before  him 
was  gloomy  in  the  extreme.  He  could  sell  no  draw- 
ings for  a time,  and  was  greatly  troubled  in  mind.  His 
good  wife,  seeing  him  so  low-spirited,  suggested  that 
he  should  “ try  something  else.”  “ Suppose  you  were 
to  teach  perspective,  David  ? ” This  idea,  somewhat 
startling  at  first,  on  reflection  commended  itself  to  him, 
as  he  thought  there  were  people  about — builders  and 


TRIES  TO  TEACH  PERSPECTIVE. 


19 


others — who  might  like  to  know  a little  of  the  rules  of 
perspective  to  enable  them  to  draw  plans  and  elevations. 
Accordingly  he  resolved  to  make  the  experiment,  but, 
as  he  was  not  proficient  in  the  science  himself,  it  was 
necessary  that  he  should  become  better  acquainted  with 
it  before  undertaking  to  instruct  others.  It  has  been 
said  that  the  main  secret  of  success  in  teaching  is  to  he 
“just  one  lesson  in  advance  of  the  pupil.”  Now,  Cox 
was  exactly  in  that  position  — or,  at  all  events,  fully 
resolved  to  be  so  ; but  to  keep  ahead  in  his  instructions 
it  was  desirable  to  look  into  some  standard  treatise  on 
the  subject,  and  to  master  the  more  advanced  rules. 
He  was  advised  that  the  best  book  for  his  purpose 
was  “ Euclid’s  Elements  of  Geometry ; ” he  therefore 
hastened  into  London  to  buy  a copy.  On  returning 
home,  he  sat  down  to  study  Euclid,  but  had  not  pro- 
ceeded far  in  his  task  before  his  brain  became  confused 
and  his  sight  somewhat  dim.  He  felt  that  the  difficul- 
ties he  had  encountered  were  quite  insurmountable. 
Problems  were  not  in  his  way.  In  fact,  he  could  make 
nothing  at  all  of  “Euclid.”  This  was  unfortunate, 
as,  having  previously  hung  in  his  window  a card, 
with  the  notification  “Perspective  Taught  Here,”  neatly 
printed  upon  it,  he  had  received  one  application 
for  lessons  from  a neighbouring  carpenter,  or  small 
builder,  who  thought  that  acquaintance  with  the  rules 
of  perspective  would  be  useful  to  him  in  his  business. 
The  new  pupil  was  coming  on  the  following  morning  to 
have  his  first  lesson.  Cox  was  in  a great  flurry,  and 
entirely  at  a loss  what  to  do.  He  turned  over  the  pages 
c 2 


20 


DAVID  COX. 


of  Euclid  again  and  again,  but  to  no  avail.  He  was 
distracted  and  lost.  The  more  he  studied  the  more 
confused  he  became.  At  length,  in  a towering  rage, 
lie  took  up  the  volume,  and  exclaiming,  “ Confound 
Euclid ! ” flung  it  with  such  violence  against  the  wall 
(a  thin  fragile  affair  oE  lath  and  plaster,  constituting  a 
kind  of  inner  wall  to  the  outer  one  of  brick),  that  it 
went  clean  through,  and  falling  between  the  two, 
disappeared  irrecoverably.  “ And  there  it  is  now  ! J’ 
Cox  used  to  say,  when  in  great  glee  he  told  the  story  in 
aEter  years. 

One  of  Cox’s  earliest  patrons,  when  he  took  up 
teaching  as  a profession,  was  Colonel  Windsor,  after- 
wards Earl  of  Plymouth.  The  Colonel  had  greatly 
admired  some  drawings  which  he  had  seen  at  one  of  the 
London  shops,  and  was  desirous  of  taking  lessons  from 
the  artist ; but  it  was  with  difficulty  that  he  obtained  from 
the  dealer  a very  indefinite  address.  He  was  told  that  the 
artist  was  from  the  country,  and  resided  at  a distance 
from  London,  somewhere  near  the  Common  at  Dulwich. 
This  vague  direction  was,  however,  sufficient  for  the 
Colonel,  who  managed  to  find  out  the  whereabouts  of 
Cox.  It  was  on  a Sunday  morning,  just  before  dinner- 
time, when  a knock  was  heard  at  the  door  of  Cox’s 
cottage,  and  a gentleman  entered  who  inquired  if  the 
person  he  was  addressing  was  the  artist  of  certain 
water-colour  drawings  which  he  had  seen  in  London. 
Satisfied  on  this  point,  he  expressed  a wish  to  receive  a 
few  lessons,  and,  terms  being  agreed  on,  he  fixed  a day  to 
call  again  for  the  purpose.  But  (as  Cox  used  to  narrate 


BEGINS  AS  A TEACHER  OF  DRAWING. 


21 


the  story)  the  Colonel  stayed  so  long,  chatting  about 
art  and  other  matters,  that  the  neck  of  mutton  which 
was  roasting  at  the  fire  for  dinner  was  burnt  to  a cinder, 
and  filled  the  house  with  an  intolerable  stench.  The 
Colonel,  however,  being  so  absorbed  in  the  subjects  of 
the  conversation,  never  perceived  the  artist's  difficulty,  or 
took  any  notice  of  the  mishap  he  was  causing  in  Cox's 
domestic  arrangements.  Dinner  was  completely  spoiled 
when  the  new  pupil  took  his  departure ; but  the  Colonel 
afterwards  made  ample  amends  for  his  thoughtlessness  ; 
he  was  so  pleased  with  the  instruction  he  received,  and 
with  Cox’s  simple,  engaging  manners,  that  he  gave  him 
introductions  to  several  ladies  of  high  position,  who 
also  took  lessons,  the  profits  of  which  soon  placed  the 
artist  in  more  comfortable  circumstances.  His  terms 
at  first  were  five  shillings  a lesson,  but  these,  by  the 
advice  of  Colonel  Windsor's  mother,  were  speedily 
raised,  and  he  received  from  his  pupils  ten  shillings  for 
an  hour’s  instruction. 

When  the  Society  of  Painters  in  Water-Colours 
was  first  formed — -in  the  year  1805 — -the  year  following 
Cox's  arrival  in  London  from  the  country,  it  may 
be  presumed  that  he  was  too  immature  an  artist, 
and  too  little  known,  to  have  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  that  body,  and  therefore  had  no  thought  of 
offering  himself  as  a member.  But  he  was  induced 
by  some  means  to  join  a similar  society,  which, 
perhaps  from  a spirit  of  opposition,  had  sprung 
into  existence,  and  which  also  held  an  annual  exhibition 
at  the  West  End  of  London  ; and  for  a brief  season  he 


22 


DAVID  COX. 


remained  a responsible  member  of  that  body.  His 
connection  with  this  society  was  in  some  respects  a most 
unfortunate  circumstance  for  him.  The  art-loving 
public  of  the  day  did  not  sufficiently  appreciate  the 
endeavours  of  the  members  to  instruct  and  delight 
them  ; the  exhibitions  did  not  cover  their  expenses ; the 
Society  could  not  pay  its  way  ; and  arrears  of  rent  so 
accumulated  that  the  landlord  would  wait  no  longer. 
Accordingly  he  levied  a distraint  on  the  contents  of  the 
gallery,  and  the  whole  of  poor  Cox’s  drawings  exhibited 
that  year,  with  some  by  other  members,  were  swept 
away  to  satisfy  the  claim.  This  was  a heavy  blow  to 
Cox,  who  could  by  no  means  afford  to  lose  the  proceeds 
of  so  much  labour  as  these  drawings  represented.  He 
did  not  recover  from  the  annoyance  of  the  loss  for  a 
long  time,  and  certainly  he  never  forgot  it.  It  made 
him  exceedingly  reluctant  to  connect  himself  with  any 
similar  body  whereby  he  might  incur  the  slightest  risk 
of  losing  money.  When,  in  after  years,  he  came  to  end 
his  days  near  his  native  town,  his  brother  artists  of 
Birmingham  wished  him  to  become  a member  of  their 
Society,  but  he  decidedly  refused  to  accept  any  re- 
sponsibility, although  frequently  he  exhibited  in  their 
rooms,  and  he  was  accordingly  elected  an  honorary 
member— the  Society  being,  of  course,  glad  to  have 
him  amongst  them  on  any  terms,  his  name  and  fame 
adding  greatly  to  the  strength  of  the  Association. 

It  was  about  nine  years  after  the  untoward  event 
above  mentioned  that  David  Cox  became  a member  of 
the  Society  of  Painters  in  Water-Colours,  of  which  he 


ELECTED  TO  THE  WATER-COLOUR  SOCIETY:  1813.  23 

continued  an  ornament  until  the  day  of  his  death.  * It 
is  presumed  that  before  he  joined  them,  he  satisfied 
himself  there  was  no  probability  of  such  another 
disaster  as  that  which  had  previously  befallen  him. 
The  Society  was  highly  popular,  and  became  a pros- 
perous body.  It  had  considerable  funds  at  its  disposal, 
a portion  of  the  profits  of  its  exhibitions  being  set  apart 
to  enable  its  members,  in  succession,  to  make  a special 
drawing — called  the  “ Premium  Drawing  ” — for  the 
annual  exhibition.  Cox  lived  to  receive  a full  share  of 
these  profits,  averaging  probably  something  near  thirty 
pounds  each  time.  The  author  has  had  repeated  oppor- 
tunities of  witnessing  the  progress  of  these  “ premium 
drawings/’  and  some  of  them  were  very  fine  works 
indeed. 

David  Cox,  on  the  whole,  passed  a very  happy  life 
whilst  residing  in  the  cottage  at  Dulwich,  which  he 
occupied  for  a period  of  about  five  years.  Much  of  his 
time  was  spent  in  sketching  from  the  surrounding 
scenery,  and  in  making  drawings  of  the  picturesque 
views  and  objects  which  were  to  be  found  along  the 
course  of  the  Thames.  He  delighted  in  the  wharves 
and  old  buildings,  the  piers  and  bridges,  the  varieties  of 
water-craft  lying  at  anchor,  or  crowding  the  river  with 
life  and  interest.  He  loved  to  depict  the  noble  towers 
of  Westminster  Abbey,  and  the  stately  trees  of  the 
Park.  He  strolled  with  keen  delight  along  the  river- 
banks  towards  the  country,  making  studies  among  the 
green  meadows  studded  with  wild  flowers  and  filled  with 


# The  election  took  place  in  1813. 


24 


DAVID  COX. 


browsing  cattle,  and  taking  note  of  the  boats  and  barges, 
with  sails  trimmed  to  catch  the  breeze,  which  he 
beheld  gliding  along  the  silvery  stream.  He  frequently 
wandered  as  far  as  Eton  and  Windsor,  recording  peeps 
of  the  College,  and  storing  his  portfolios  with  views  of 
the  Castle,  which  for  him  had  ever  a most  powerful 
charm.  It  was  whilst  so  occupied,  industriously  pur- 
suing his  art,  that  he  had  the  very  great  misfortune  to 
be  “ drawn  ” for  the  Militia.  This  event  gave  him  the 
utmost  concern,  as  it  threatened  to  interfere  seriously 
with  his  pursuits ; and,  moreover,  he  had  an  unconquer- 
able aversion  to  any  form  of  military  life.  But  there 
appeared  to  be  no  way  of  escape  for  him ; probably 
he  had  no  means  for  purchasing  a substitute ; serve  he 
therefore  must.  The  day  soon  arrived  on  which  he  was 
to  be  sworn  in.  Listening  at  the  foot  of  the  office 
stairs  before  going  up,  he  was  terrified  at  the  proceed- 
ings. There  were  a large  number  of  persons  who  had 
been  drawn  like  himself,  and  he  heard  all  kinds  of 
reasons  assigned  by  the  unwilling  why  they  should  be 
excused  from  service.  A neighbour  of  his  was  one  of 
these ; and  Cox  distinctly  heard  him  tell  the  most 
deliberate  falsehood  to  get  free,  which  had  the  desired 
effect,  for  his  name  was  struck  off  the  list.  When 
Cox’s  turn  came  to  be  sworn  in,  he  told  the  official  what 
were  his  position  and  prospects ; that  it  would  be  his 
utter  ruin  if  he  were  taken  from  the  pursuit  of  his  art ; 
and  urged  every  reason  he  could  think  of  why  he  should 
be  released.  All  was  of  no  avail ; he  was  told  that  he 
must  serve.  This  so  exasperated  Cox,  that  he  exclaimed 


DRAWN  FOB  TEE  MILITIA  : FABNHAM  COLLEGE.  25 


to  tlie  officer,  “ Yon  would  have  let  me  off  if  I had  told 
you  a lie,”  and  then  rushed  from  the  place  in  disgust. 
He  was  now  determined  that  he  would  not  serve,  and 
so  he  quitted  his  residence  at  once,  hiding  in  various 
parts  of  the  country,  until  he  considered  it  fairly  safe  to 
venture  back  again.  For  a long  time  he  was  in  constant 
dread  of  being  apprehended  as  a deserter. 

In  his  anxiety  to  improve  his  position — for  during 
his  residence  at  Dulwich  his  struggles  for  a subsistence 
had  been  many  and  trying — he  was  induced  to  apply 
for  the  appointment  of  drawing-master  at  the  Military 
College  at  Farnham,  a post  then  vacant.  This  ap- 
pointment he  obtained ; but,  in  consequence,  he  was 
compelled  to  break  up  his  pleasant  country  home,  to 
send  his  wife  to  her  mother,  and  his  son  to  his  father 
in  Birmingham,  and  go  into  residence  at  the  College. 
This  was  a mortification  to  him,  but  he  resolved  to 
endure  it,  if  possible,  for  a time.  His  remuneration 
was  good ; he  took  rank  as  captain,  with  a servant  to 
wait  upon  him ; those  he  associated  with  were  gentle- 
manlike companions ; and  several  of  his  pupils  greatly 
distinguished  themselves  in  after  life.  The  illustrious 
Sir  William  Napier,  author  of  the  “ History  of  the 
Peninsular  War,”  was  one  of  those  who  acquired  their 
knowledge  of  drawing  from  David  Cox.  This  appoint- 
ment promised  in  no  long  time  to  become  more 
lucrative.  Cox  was  esteemed  by  the  Governor,  and 
much  liked  by  the  officers  whom  he  instructed.  But  he 
soon  tired  of  the  dulness  of  the  daily  routine,  and  chafed 
at  the  restraint  put  upon  his  movements.  He  felt  that 


.26 


DAVID  COX. 


tie  was  altogether  in  a wrong  position,  and  longed  for 
freedom ; desiring  with  feverish  eagerness  to  return  to 
his  old  pursuits — to  range  wherever  he  pleased  over  the 
pleasant  fields,  by  the  brook  and  river-sides,  or  down 
the  sweet  green  lanes,  which  he  had  so  often  traversed 
in  search  of  subjects  for  his  pencil.  There  was  that  in 
his  looks  which  indicated  to  those  about  him  that  he 
was  ill  at  ease ; and  the  Governor  inquired  if  anything 
could  be  done  to  make  him  more  comfortable ; but  Cox 
assured  Sir  Howard  Douglas  that  he  could  never  be 
happy  in  his  situation,  and  that  he  must  leave  the 
College.  With  much  regret,  his  resignation  was  ac- 
cepted; in  a short  time  he  bade  adieu  to  friends  and 
pupils  at  Farnham,  and  betook  himself  to  more  con- 
genial pursuits.  On  reviewing  his  life  at  the  College 
during  the  twelve  months  of  his  residence  there,  he  felt 
that  on  the  whole  it  had  rendered  him  service,  in 
strengthening,  by  its  disciplinary  rules  and  regulations, 
his  mind  and  character ; his  time  had  therefore  by  no 
means  been  thrown  away.  Besides,  he  had  been  enabled 
to  put  by  a little  money  out  of  the  payment  received, 
which  was  extremely  useful  to  him,  providing  a fund  on 
which  to  draw  for  the  support  of  those  near  and  dear 
until  some  favourable  turn  of  affairs  brought  him 
prosperity.  He  at  once,  on  leaving  the  College,  re- 
joined his  wife  at  her  mother’s  house  in  London, 
and  for  the  next  twelve  months  busied  himself  in 
sketching,  as  before,  and  in  making  finished  drawings 
for  exhibition  and  sale. 

After  the  lapse  of  about  a year  Cox  began  to  look 


REMOVAL  FROM  LONDON  TO^  HEREFORD  : 1814.  27 

about  for  some  source  of  permanent  income,  for  the 
mere  sale  of  drawings  was  insufficient.  An  advertise- 
ment in  one  of  the  London  papers  attracted  him.  A 
lady  who  kept  a girls’  school  in  the  city  of  Hereford 
was  in  want  of  a master  to  teach  her  pupils  drawing. 
A salary  of  £100  a year  was  offered,  with  the  oppor- 
tunity of  teaching  elsewhere,  and  of  taking  private 
pupils,  when  the  master’s  services  were  not  required  at 
the  school.  Cox  thought  this  situation  would  exactly 
suit  him.  Besides  reasons  economical  and  domestic, 
which  at  that  time  had  great  weight  with  him,  he 
knew  that  he  should  at  Hereford  be  in  the  midst  of 
most  beautiful  scenery,  which  would  be  of  the  greatest 
advantage  to  him,  and  also  that  he  should  be  near  to 
his  beloved  Wales,  which  had  the  strongest  hold  on  his 
affections.  He  accordingly  wrote  to  the  lady,  who 
came  up  to  London  for  an  interview.  She  approved 
of  his  specimens — liked  his  appearance  and  manners — 
and  being  quite  satisfied  as  to  his  character  and  respect- 
ability, he  was  engaged  to  fill  the  situation.  So,  as 
soon  as  the  necessary  arrangements  could  be  made, 
towards  the  close  of  the  year  1814  to  Hereford  he 
went.* 

* The  lady  was  a Miss  Croucher:  the  school  was  called  the  Gate 
House,  situate  in  Widemarsh  Street. — Ed. 


CHAPTER  III. 

1814  to  1827. 


Residence  at  Hereford,  and  Work  done  there — Drawing-books  published — 
Views  of  the  City  of  Bath — Illustrations  for  the  “ History  of  Warwickshire” 
— First  Trip  to  the  Continent. 

Cox’s  removal  to  Hereford  was  an  important  step  in 
his  life.  The  first  thing  he  had  to  do  on  arriving  in 
that  city  was  to  choose  a house ; but  his  means  being 
scanty  at  that  time  (in  fact,  he  had  to  accept  a loan 
from  a kind  pupil — a lady — to  enable  him  to  remove 
from  London)  he  was  compelled  to  fix  on  a dwelling 
of  a very  unpretending  description.  The  cottage  he 
selected  was  one  he  had  seen  on  a previous  visit  to 
Hereford.  It  was  very  picturesque — pretty  to  look  at 
— -just  such  an  one  as  an  artist  would  like  to  paint, 
but  it  was  situated  at  the  edge  of  a wood,  a consider- 
able distance  from  the  city,  which  was  very  inconvenient 
in  many  respects,  and  moreover,  had  stone  floors,  which 
were  found  to  be  cold,  and  were  sometimes  damp. 
Cox  passed  the  first  winter  in  this  humble  abode,  and 
was  glad  when  the  dreary  season  had  gone  by.  He 
used  to  say  that  in  wild  weather,  when  the  stormy 
winds  were  rushing  through  the  trees  at  the  back  of 
the  house,  especially  in  the  dead  of  the  night,  his 
sensations  were  anything  but  cheering.  So  soon  as 
spring  arrived  he  looked  out  for  another  dwelling 


HIS  FIRST  HOUSE  AT  HEREFORD. 


29 


place,  and  eventually  found  one  more  to  his  mind,  a 
good  deal  nearer  the  city.  There  he  stayed  a year  or 
two,  and  then  removed  to  a cottage  which  he  liked 
much  better,  and  which,  from  the  name  of  the  owner, 
he  called  Parry’s  Cottage,  situated  in  a pleasant  lane, 
very  quiet,  and  very  pretty.  The  rent  was  low,  and 
the  accommodation  somewhat  limited,  hut  Cox,  by 
agreement  with  the  landlord,  spent  some  money  in 
additions  and  improvements — a larger  room  in  which 
to  paint,  was  one  of  the  additions — and  made  the  cot- 
tage more  suitable  to  his  requirements.  It  had  a 
thatched  roof,  which  added  to  its  picturesque  appear- 
ance, and  the  garden  attached  to  it  was  of  a fair  size, 
and  well  stocked  with  fruit  trees.  This  was  a great 
attraction  to  Cox,  who  always  loved  a good  garden, 
and  he  spent  his  leisure  time  in  it  much  to  his  satisfac- 
tion. In  the  front  of  the  house  was  a small  garden 
also,  which  was  filled  with  flowers  of  the  kinds  that  Cox 
most  cared  for,  and  these  in  summer  made  a beautiful 
show.  In  this  pleasant  habitation  the  artist  continued 
to  reside  until  he  had  saved  sufficient  money  to  build  a 
house  of  his  own. 

David  Cox  entered  on  his  duties  at  the  Ladies’ 
School  almost  as  soon  as  he  arrived  in  Hereford  ; and 
then  commenced  a long  period  of  fagging  and  hard 
work.  His  time  not  being  fully  occupied  with  the 
school  pupils,  he  took  an  engagement  as  drawing  master 
at  the  Hereford  Grammar  School,  which  appointment 
he  held,  although  the  remuneration  was  small,  for 
several  years.  He  also  taught  at  schools  in  some  of 


30 


DAVID  COX . 


the  neighbouring  towns,  besides  receiving  private  pupils 
to  whom  he  gave  lessons,  amongst  them  being  a young 
man  of  the  name  of  Ince,  who  became,  in  after  years, 
an  artist  of  some  repute.  In  this  way  he  toiled  on  for 
a long  time,  often  heart-sick  and  weary  of  his  task,  but 
he  was  slowly  making  a little  money,  and  feeling  his 
way  to  a more  prosperous  condition.  His  long  walks 
to  and  from  the  places  where  he  taught  drawing,  fre- 
quently caused  him  much  fatigue,  and  at  one  time  he 
was  induced  to  buy  a pony  in  order  to  save  his  legs. 
He  often  amused  his  friends  by  describing  the  freaks 
of  this  pony,  which  previously  had  belonged  to  an 
apothecary,  and  was  accustomed  to  go  rounds  with 
the  lad  who  took  out  the  medicines  to  residences  in 
the  neighbourhood.  Having  so  many  times  been  em- 
ployed on  this  business  he  knew  the  connection  well,  and 
needed  no  intimation  where  to  stop.  This  knowledge 
had  not  forsaken  the  pony  when  Cox  became  his  owner ; 
and  when  the  drawing-master  mounted  him  to  go  to 
his  teaching,  he  fancied  that  he  was  taking  out  medi- 
cines still.  Accordingly,  often  during  the  journey  he 
pulled  up  short  at  somebody’s  door,  where  he  had  been 
used  to  deliver  the  pills  and  lotions,  and  his  rider  had 
much  difficulty  in  getting  him  to  proceed.  On  one 
occasion,  Cox  was  actually  obliged  to  dismount,  hitch 
the  bridle  on  to  a gate,  and  make  a pretence  of  going 
up  to  the  house  before  the  pony  could  be  persuaded  to 
budge  another  inch.  These  erratic  movements  did  not 
altogether  suit  his  new  owner,  who  occasionally  was 
near  losing  his  seat,  whenever  unexpectedly  the  pony 


SKETCHING  TOURS  NEAR  HEREFORD. 


31 


dashed  off  at  a tangent  from  the  direct  course;  and 
consequently  he  was  disposed  of,  and  Cox  resolved  to 
walk  as  before. 

The  scenery  around  Hereford  was  a source  of  great 
delight  to  Cox.  Early  and  late,  whenever  opportunity 
offered,  he  busied  himself  in  sketching.  In  the  fertile 
meadows  that  skirted  the  beautiful  rivers  Lugg  and 
Wye,  he  might  have  been  seen,  almost  any  day  during 
fine  weather,  plying  his  industrious  pencil.  These 
studies  made  a lasting  impression  upon  him.  His  mind 
was  stored  with  the  most  captivating  images,  incidents, 
and  effects,  often  recurring  in  after  years  to  his  recollec- 
tion, to  be  made  use  of  again  and  again,  and  always 
with  renewed  pleasure.  The  city  itself  attracted  him 
greatly;  it  afforded  many  picturesque  subjects:  quaint 
old  houses,  and  quiet  street  views,  which  he  drew  with 
much  effect.  He  also  occasionally  made  excursions 
down  the  Wye,  and  obtained  subjects  for  drawings, 
which  he  elaborated  for  sale  in  the  exhibitions,  and  to 
the  London  dealers.  Some  of  these  were  very  good  for 
the  period  at  which  they  were  produced,  but  they  did 
not  always  find  ready  purchasers.  Money,  at  the  close 
of  the  great  French  war,  was  not  abundant ; and  the 
artist  had  not  then  discovered  his  strength,  or  acquired 
the  command  over  colour  and  effect  which  afterwards 
established  his  fame.  Wales — dear  old  Wales  ! — being 
near  at  hand,  frequently  enticed  him  over  the  border 
into  her  pleasant  valleys  and  her  grand  mountain  ranges. 
There  he  worked  hard,  always  returning  from  his 
excursions  with  his  portfolios  filled  with  sketches  and 


32 


DAVID  COX. 


memoranda  for  future  use.  The  finished  results  of  these 
studies  he  every  year  carried  to  London,  as  there  was  little 
demand  for  them  in  Hereford,  and  disposed  of  them  to 
his  former  patrons,  or  in  the  exhibitions  of  his  society. 
Some  he  sold  on  his  way  to  town,  in  Birmingham, 
staying  for  a short  time  with  his  old  friends  the 
Everitts,  or  with  Mr.  William  Baddy ffe,  the  engraver. 
The  following  letter,  addressed  to  the  latter  gentleman, 
is  interesting,  as  showing  the  difficulty  Cox  had  in 
disposing  of  his  drawings  of  a larger  size,  which  at  that 
time  the  art-loving  public  were  by  no  means  eager  to 
possess,  moderate  as  was  their  price.  Mention  is  like- 
wise made  in  the  letter  of  the  cottage  Cox  was  then 
about  to  build  at  Hereford  on  some  freehold  land  he 
had  purchased : 

Hereford,  June  19th,  1824. 

Dear  Radclyffe, — I was  greatly  disappointed  you  did  not 
extend  your  journey  to  Hereford  when  at  Cheltenham ; such  another 
chance  may  not  occur  for  a great  length  of  time.  And  to  get  you  to 
leave  your  business  at  Birmingham  to  come  over  purposely,  is  quite 
out  of  my  expectation.  However,  I must  forgive  you  this  time,  but 
it  is  quite  as  much  as  I can,  and  perhaps  you  will  make  amends,  and 
come  over  this  summer.  I wish  you  would  say  as  much ; it  would 
give  me  great  pleasure,  I assure  you.  ...  I am  much  gratified 
with  your  approval  of  my  works  that  are  in  the  exhibition.  It  is  some 
consolation  ; though  to  have  sold  them  would  have  been  much  more 
agreeable.  You  ask  me  the  price  I should  charge  to  you.  [This  was 
for  a large-size  drawing  then  being  exhibited.]  I am  sorry  to  tell 
you  that  I put  it  into  the  exhibition  at  so  low  a price,  thinking  by 
that  of  making  sale  certain,  that  I cannot  sell  it  for  less  than  £35  ; 
the  price  in  the  room  is  35  guineas.  If  I had  supposed  it  would 
not  have  sold,  I would  have  asked  60  guineas  ; but  I could  not 
live  at  the  price  I have  asked,  and  shall  make  but  few  large  draw- 


BUILDS  A HOUSE  FOB  HIMSELF. 


33 


ings,  on  account  of  the  few  purchasers.  I intend  to  make  small 
drawings,  and  perhaps  one  large  each  year,  as  the  Society  have 
voted  me  the  premium  of  thirty  guineas  for  next  exhibition,  and  I 
must,  of  course,  be  thinking  of  a subject.  Perhaps  you  can  suggest 
one  to  me.  I will  make  you  a few  small  drawings  this  summer,  and 
send  them  over  for  your  selection.  I have  none  by  me,  and  have 
orders  for  more  than  my  leisure  time  will  allow  of  my  making 
between  now  and  Christmas.  That  comes  of  exhibiting  in  London, 
or  else  it  would  not  answer ; but  I will  attend  to  making  you  some 
soon.  I hope  you  may  like  the  small  drawing  sent,  and  hope  it  will 
be  in  good  time.  I preferred  making  it  in  colours,  and  would  have 
made  one  in  sepia  also,  but  had  not  time,  for  since  my  return  I have 
had  to  make  up  loss  with  my  pupils,  by  giving  them  double  lessons. 

This  week  I shall  lay  the  first  stone  of  my  cottage.  I have 
already  got  the  foundation  dug  out,  and  the  well-sinkers  have  got 
five  yards  down,  three  of  which  are  stone,  and  very  tiresome,  but 
hope  they  will  overcome  all  obstacles,  and  finish  it  in  six  or  eight 
weeks.  My  house  I hope  also  to  have  roofed  in  in  ten  weeks,  so 
that  you  will  find  that  it  is  small,  but  it  will  be  large  enough  to 
receive  a friend  at  any  time ; and  I shall  have  a painting-room 
nineteen  feet  by  thirteen  feet  and  ten  feet  in  height.  This  room  is 
my  principal  object  for  building,  as  where  I now  live  is  so  small  that 
every  drawing  I make  is  made  in  a small  parlour  where  we  take  our 
meals,  and  see  any  one  that  calls.  I hope  to  see  Birmingham  this 
summer,  perhaps  in  a few  weeks,  when  I hope  to  find  yourself,  Mrs. 
Badclyffe,  and  family,  quite  well.  . . . Pray  how  goes  on  the 

“ Warwickshire  ? ” [An  illustrated  work  then  in  hand,  for  which 
Mr.  Badclyffe  was  engraving  the  plates,  and  Cox  had  been  engaged 
to  make  some  of  the  drawings.]  I did  not  see  any  other  number  out 
when  I was  in  town.  Are  all  the  subjects  disposed  of  yet1?  If  you 
should  have  occasion  to  write  to  me  again  soon,  say  how  the  arts  go 
on  in  Birmingham ; or  any  news  you  can  collect. 

Believe  me,  dear  Baddy  fie,  yours  truly, 

David  Cox. 

Whilst  in  London,  during  liis  annual  visits,  Co>: 
embraced  the  opportunity  of  giving  a few  lessons  to 


34 


DAVID  COX. 


some  of  his  former  pupils,  who  were  glad  to  avail  them- 
selves of  his  assistance,  and  by  so  doing  increased  his 
income.  By  persevering  industry  he  was  enabled  in  a 
few  years  to  carry  out  the  project  on  which  he  had  long 
set  his  affections — viz.,  to  build  himself  a house  after 
his  own  mind.  Finding  himself  in  sufficient  funds  to 
accomplish  this  object,  he  determined  on  making  his  own 
designs,  and  erecting  a pretty  little  cottage  on  some  land 
he  had  purchased  in  a delightful  situation  just  at  the 
edge  of  the  city,  on  the  brow  of  an  eminence  called  Ail- 
stone  Hill.  This  cottage  residence  (a  drawing  of  which 
the  author  has  seen)  was  designed  with  all  an  artist’s 
taste  for  the  picturesque.  It  had  a thatched  roof  over- 
hanging the  walls,  with  a verandah,  also  thatched,  and 
running  nearly  round  the  building,  about  which  were 
trailed  roses  and  flowering  creeping-plants.  There  was  a 
carriage-drive  at  front,  in  the  midst  of  which  stood  an 

ash,  that  gave  its  name  to  the  house “ Ash-tree  House;” 

— and  behind  was  a garden  of  fair  dimensions,  in  course 
of  time  doubtless  well  filled  with  good  things  for  the 
table.  Trees  of  various  kinds  clustered  at  the  back  of 
the  cottage,  around  the  garden  sides,  and  in  summer- 
time made  a pleasant  shadow  with  their  leaves.  Al- 
together it  was  a very  charming  abode,  admired  by  all 
who  passed  it.  On  Cox  quitting  Hereford  for  good, 
not  more  than  two  years  after  he  had  completed  the 
cottage,  he  met  with  a ready  purchaser  for  it  at  the 
sum  of  nearly  one  thousand  pounds.  No  doubt  he 
spent  a very  happy  time  in  his  new  habitation.  He 
was  visited  occasionally  by  old  and  esteemed  friends 


PUBLISHES  DRAWING-BOOKS : 1814  AND  1825. 


35 


from  Birmingham — Mr.  Edward  Everitt  and  Mr.  W. 
Badclyffe — hoth  of  whom  purchased  some  of  his  works, 
and  went  on  sketching  excursions  with  him  in  the 
neighbouring  district,  adown  the  Wye,  and  in  other 
parts  of  the  country.  From  his  own  experience  of  such 
journeys  in  after  years,  the  writer  knows  this  must  have 
been  for  Cox  a happy  time  indeed. 

It  was  during  his  residence  at  Hereford  that  David 
Cox  published,  for  the  use  of  art  students,  two  hooks  of 
lessons,  illustrated  by  himself.  Some  of  the  drawings 
were  in  outline  only,  for  beginners  ; some  were  in  imita- 
tion of  sepia  or  Indian  ink  ; whilst  others  showed  his 
method  of  working  in  colours.  These  works  were 
brought  out  by  Messrs.  Fuller  of  London,  and  were 
considered  amongst  the  best  of  their  kind.  The  first 
that  was  published  was  entitled,  “ A Treatise  on  Land- 
scape Painting  and  Effect  in  Water  Colours.”  It  was 
followed  several  years  afterwards  by  another  work, 
entitled,  “ The  Young  Artist’s  Companion  or  Drawing 
Book.”*  Many  of  the  illustrations  are  very  excellent, 
and  the  plates  were  etched  by  Cox’s  own  hand.  At  the 
present  time  copies  of  the  first  issue  of  these  publications 
are  sold  for  considerable  sums.  Doubtless  both  these 
works  were  found  of  great  service  to  students,  as  the 
Messrs.  Fuller  published  a second  edition  of  them — or 
of  the  first  of  them — after  a while.  Such  of  the  plates 

* The  former  of  these  works  was  published  in  1814,  and  the  latter  in 
1825 ; both  by  Messrs.  Fuller,  of  Rathbone  Place.  They  also  published 
the  “ Views  of  Bath,”  in  1820.  In  1840,  the  same  publishers  issued  a 
new  edition  of  the  “ Landscape  Painting ; ” but  Cox  made  no  new 
drawings  for  it. — Ed. 

D 2 


36 


DAVID  COX. 


as  were  worn  were  re-touched,  and  the  work  was  brought 
out  in  monthly  numbers.  In  the  literary  part  Cox  was 
assisted  by  some  one  more  experienced  than  himself ; 
the  writer  is  under  the  impression  that  he  said  it  was 
“ by  a clergyman.” 

Cox  also  made,  whilst  in  Hereford,  a series  of  six 
drawings,  “Views  of  the  City  of  Bath,”  which  were 
engraved  and  published  also  by  Messrs.  Fuller.  These 
drawings,  for  the  period  at  which  they  were  executed, 
were  exceedingly  clever.  One  of  them,  “ A View  of  the 
Town  Hall  and  Abbey,”  has  been  in  the  author’s  posses- 
sion ; and  another,  “ The  Pump  Boom,”  he  has  seen, 
and  considers  a very  skilful  work.  There  are  numerous 
figures  in  it,  giving  a good  idea  of  the  people  who 
frequented  that  fashionable  watering-place  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  present  century.  This  series  was 
brought  out  about  the  year  1817,  and  the  artist  received 
from  the  publishers  the  very  modest  sum  of  four  guineas 
each  drawing.  Cox  also  drew  some  of  the  public 
buildings  and  quaint  old  houses  of  Hereford,  which  were 
lithographed  or  etched  by  himself.  The  Town  Hall, 
with  a number  of  figures  at  the  front,  is  especially  good. 
He  was  rather  partial  to  soft-ground  etching,  and  worked 
skilfully  on  the  copperplate.  It  is  also  probable,  though 
not  definitely  ascertained,  that  he  occasionally  painted  in 
oil  whilst  at  Hereford.  The  author  has  seen  a picture 
of  Worcester  Cathedral,  with  the  adjoining  houses,  the 
river  Severn  in  front,  boats  and  barges  moored  to  the 
side,  and  a figure  swimming  across  the  water ; all  very 
characteristic  of  Cox’s  manner  at  that  period,  and  which 


THE  “ WARWICKSHIRE  ILLUSTRATED.” 


37 


he  believes  to  be  an  early  production  of  the  artist.  It 
is  somewhat  hard,  smooth,  and  precise,  hut  hears 
unmistakable  signs  of  having  come  from  his  hand. 

Some  little  time  before  Cox  left  Hereford  an 
illustrated  account  of  Warwickshire  was  projected  by 
a firm  of  publishers  in  Birmingham  (Messrs.  Knott), 
for  which  work  he  and  other  artists — De  Wint,  Harding, 
W.  Westall,  J.  Y.  Barber,  and  one  or  two  more — were 
engaged  to  make  the  necessary  drawings.  The  descrip- 
tive letterpress  was  written  by  Mr.  Hamper,  F.S.A.,  an 
antiquary  of  note  then  living  in  Birmingham.  The 
drawings  executed  by  Cox  and  He  Wint — with  one 
exception  entirely  in  sepia — are  very  beautiful,  and 
are  by  far  the  best  of  the  series.  Cox’s  old  friend,  Mr. 
William  Badclyffe,  engraved  the  plates.  A few  years 
since,  the  entire  series  of  drawings  was  purchased  by 
subscription,  and  presented  for  safe  keeping  to  the 
Birmingham  and  Midland  Institute.  Mr.  C.  W. 
Badclyffe,  son  of  the  engraver,  states  that  it  was 
through  the  instrumentality  of  his  father  that  Cox 
obtained  the  commission  to  make  some  of  the  drawings 
for  this  “ History/'  and  that  the  artist's  remuneration 
was  not  more  than  a guinea  for  each  drawing.  An 
exquisite  drawing  in  colours,  “ A Street  Scene,  Warwick," 
with  the  Court-house,  a crowd  of  suitors  in  front,  and 
lawyers  in  their  robes  and  wigs  standing  amongst  them, 
is  now  worth  all  the  money  the  entire  series  cost ! The 
following  letter  contains  a reference  to  two  of  the 
illustrations,  which  were  despatched  to  the  engraver  a 
few  days  before  Cox  quitted  Hereford  for  London : — 


38 


DAVID  COX. 


Hereford,  January  22,  1827. 

Dear  Radclyffe, — I have  enclosed  the  “ High  Street,  Birming- 
ham,” and  small  sepia  of  “ Guy’s  Cliff  Avenue,”  which  latter  I beg 
to  present,  and  hope  it  may  answer.  I have  also  enclosed  a letter  to 
Mr.  Thos.  Knott  for  my  money,  with  a request  that  he  will  send  it 
this  week,  as  I quit  my  house  next  Monday,  and  wish  to  get  off  to 
London  as  soon  as  the  sale  is  over.  But  before  I leave  I must  beg 
to  trouble  you.  I have  had  an  accident  with  the  stained-glass 
window,  nearly  the  whole  of  the  panes  being  broken  in  the  late  high 
winds,  and  I must  replace  them,  so  as  to  leave  the  house  as  I sold  it. 
I must  therefore  trouble  you  to  order  me  panes  to  the  following 
sizes,  and  as  near  to  the  colour  sent.  There  is  a person  lives  op- 
posite “ Wilday’s  Hotel,”  where  you  can  order  it,  with  a request  that 
he  will  pack  it  safely,  but  if  he  should  think  there  would  be  a risk  in 
sending  the  larger  panes,  tell  him  to  send  off  the  smaller  immediately 
by  coach.  I remember  once  calling  on  the  above  person,  who  told 
me  it  was  5s.  per  foot,  but  I must  have  it,  and  I hope  you  will 
excuse  the  liberty  I have  taken  in  making  so  urgent  a request  on 
your  valuable  time,  but  as  I have  before  stated,  I must  leave  the 
house  on  Monday  next,  and  also  leave  it  in  the  state  in  which  I 
sold  it. 

I have  this  moment  recollected  that  I ought  to  have  made  a 
sketch  of  some  ducks,  but  I think  if  it  is  to  be  altered  [alluding 
probably  to  the  drawing  of  “ High  Street,  Birmingham,”  with  the 
market-folk  and  their  poultry-stalls,  then  forwarded  to  Mr.  Radclyffe 
to  be  engraved]  you  can  do  it,  and  I will  touch  upon  the  proof. 
I still  think  there  can  be  no  objection  to  the  table  with  the  dead 
poultry. 

Yours  very  truly,  in  haste, 

D.  Cox. 

During  the  summer  of  1826,  the  year  before  Cox 
left  Hereford,  he  was  induced,  in  company  with  his 
brother-in-law  and  young  David,  his  son,  to  make  an 
excursion  to  the  Continent.  The  party  crossed  the 
Channel  to  Calais,  where  they  stayed  a short  time, 


VISIT  TO  BELGIUM:  1826. 


39 


and  thence  went  on  to  Brussels.  In  that  city  Cox 
made  numerous  sketches.  He  also  made  a pilgrimage 
to  the  field  of  Waterloo,  to  see  the  spot  where,  a few 
years  previously,  mighty  forces  had  striven  for  mastery, 
and  the  fate  of  Napoleon  was  sealed.  During  his  stay  at 
Brussels  he  accidentally  fell  in  with  some  old  Hereford 
friends,  named  Hopton,  who  were  travelling  on  the 
Continent,  and  was  persuaded  to  accompany  them  in 
their  carriage  to  many  places  of  interest  they  were 
desirous  of  seeing.  Young  David  was  sent  home  with 
his  relative,  and  Cox,  with  his  friends,  visited  some  of 
the  chief  cities  of  Belgium  and  Holland.  His  pencil 
was  by  no  means  idle  during  this  pleasant  excursion. 
The  ladies  of  the  family  had  been  his  pupils  at  Here- 
ford, and  were  as  much  interested  in  art-work  as  their 
master.  Cox  returned  home  with  his  sketch-books 
filled  with  useful  memoranda  for  future  drawings  of 
great  interest  and  importance,  some  of  which  he  con- 
tributed to  the  Water-Colour  Society’s  exhibitions. 

Among  the  friends  to  whom  Cox  was  warmly 
attached  during  his  sojourn  in  the  old  cathedral  city 
was  Mr.  Charles  Spozzi,  manager  of  the  Old  Bank  in 
Hereford.  The  writer  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing 
this  gentleman,  and  has  heard  him  speak  of  Mr.  Cox 
with  great  respect  and  esteem.  Mr.  Spozzi  had  often 
rendered  small  services  to  Cox,  and  also  to  his  servant, 
Ann  Fowler,  in  the  disposal  of  her  savings,  for  which 
both  Ann  and  her  master  felt  very  grateful.  Ann 
Fowler  went  into  Mr.  Cox’s  service  when  quite  a girl, 
and  lived  with  him  until  his  death,  when  far  advanced 


40 


DAVID  COX. 


in  years.  Cox  always  enjoined  upon  his  domestics  the 
desirability  of  putting  something  by  from  their  wages 
against  old  age  and  a “ rainy  day.”  Ann  Fowler  acted 
upon  this  advice,  and  invested  her  surplus  cash,  under 
the  direction  of  Mr.  Spozzi,  in  the  Hereford  Savings 
Bank,  until  at  length  she  had  at  command  a very 
respectable  sum.  The  following  letter,  written  many 
years  after  Cox  left  Hereford,  will  show  his  thoughtful- 
ness for  those  about  him,  and  also  that  he  did  not 
forget  kindnesses  rendered  to  him  in  early  days : — 

Greenfield  House,  Harborne,  near  Birmingham, 
January  19,  1850. 

My  dear  Sir, — I see  from  the  Hereford  paper  a notice  to  the 
following  effect : — “ Attendance  will  be  given  at  the  office  of  the 
Hereford  Savings  Bank  every  Saturday  during  the  month  of 
January,  1850,  between  the  hours  of  ten  and  eleven  in  the  forenoon, 
and  every  Monday  evening  between  the  hours  of  six  and  seven,  for 
the  purpose  of  the  depositors’  books  being  made  up  and  examined  to 
the  20th  of  November  last.”  As  my  servant  cannot  attend  at  this  time, 
and  you  were  so  kind  as  to  say  you  would  undertake  a little  business 
of  this  kind  for  her,  she  begs  that  I would  write  and  ask  you  this 
favour,  to  have  her  book  (which  I now  enclose)  examined,  and  the 
interest  added.  She  had  some  thought  of  taking  her  deposit  out  of 
the  Savings  Bank  this  Christmas,  and  placing  it  in  the  Three  Per 
Cents.  ; but  as  the  price  of  Consols  is  so  very  high,  and  perhaps 
Ministers  may  contemplate  some  change,  I advise  her  to  wait  a short 
t:me  before  she  removes  it. 

I have  painted  a small  picture,  in  oil,  but  as  it  is  not  quite  dry,  I 
will  not  send  it  off  until  Monday,  and  shall  beg  that  you  will  accept 
it  for  “.auld  lang  syne.”  I trust  that  Mrs.  Spozzi  and  yourself  are 
in  good  health,  as  this  leaves  your  obliged  and  faithful 

David  Cox. 

To  Charles  Spozzi,  Esq.,  Hereford. 


SELLS  HIS  HOUSE  AT  HEREFORD . 


41 


Not  very  long  after  Cox  returned  from  liis  Con- 
tinental tour  he  began  seriously  to  meditate  a removal 
to  London.  He  had  now  been  resident  in  the  country 
for  something  like  thirteen  years,  and  felt  that  he 
should  greatly  like  a change.  He  was  anxious  to  fix 
his  abode  among  the  members  of  his  profession,  and  to  be 
nearer  the  purchasers  and  collectors  of  works  of  art. 
He  also  thought  that  he  should  he  able  to  make  more 
money  by  teaching  in  London,  having  excellent  pro- 
spects of  extending  his  connection  among  the  wealthier 
classes  through  the  agency  of  his  former  pupils.  Above 
all,  he  had  the  interests  of  his  son  at  heart,  and  con- 
sidered that  his  chances  of  success  as  an  artist  would  be 
materially  increased  by  a removal  at  once  to  the  metro- 
polis. It  was  exactly  at  this  juncture  that  a West 
Indian  planter,  who  had  realised  a fortune  at  Berbice, 
returned  to  his  native  town  of  Hereford,  and  was  look- 
ing about  for  a residence,  intending  to  settle  there  for 
the  rest  of  his  life.*  Whilst  strolling  around  the 
suburbs  he  was  attracted  by  Cox’s  pretty  little  cottage, 
and  thought  it  was  the  very  place  he  should  like  to 
possess.  He  immediately  made  overtures  to  purchase  it ; 
the  owner  wanted  to  sell ; the  price  was  agreed  on  with- 
out demur,  and  the  money  paid.  In  the  settlement 
there  were  a few  shillings  to  be  returned  to  the  planter 
from  the  sum  paid  down.  Cox  searched  his  pockets  to 
find  the  necessary  coin,  when  the  new  owner  exclaimed, 
“ Never  mind  the  change,  Mr.  Cox ! you  can  give  me 

# This  gentleman’s  name  was  Reynolds.  He  changed  the  name  of 
the  house  to  Berbice  Villa. — Ed. 


42 


DAVID  COX. 


five  or  six  of  your  little  drawings  for  the  balance ! 55 
“ And  he  really  meant  what  he  said/’  Cox  told  his 
friends  when  narrating  the  story.  Such  was  the  low 
monetary  value  which  the  wealthy  planter  set  on  works 
of  art  ! 

Having  thus  disposed  of  his  house,  and  made  all 
other  necessary  arrangements,  Cox,  with  his  family,  at 
the  beginning  of  the  year  1827,  hade  a final  adieu  to 
the  old  City  of  Hereford. 


CHAPTER  IY. 


1827  to  1841. 

Return  to  London,  and  Second  Residence  there — Professional  Pursuits — Another 
Continental  Trip — Sketching  Excursions  into  Yorkshire,  Derbyshire,  to  the 
Lakes,  and  Elsewhere — Takes  Lessons  in  Oil-painting  from  W.  Miiller — ■ 
Quits  London  for  Harborne,  near  Birmingham. 

Although  David  Cox,  after  liis  thirteen  years’  con- 
tinuous residence  in  the  country,  felt  an  ardent  desire 
for  a change  of  scene,  a return  to  town  life,  in  order  to 
mingle  more  frequently  with  his  artistic  brethren,  and 
to  push  his  fortunes  with  greater  success,  he  was 
nevertheless  conscious  of  the  immense  benefit  which, 
as  a landscape  painter,  he  had  received  from  the  know- 
ledge acquired  during  that  time  of  the  varied  appear- 
ances and  effects  of  Nature,  through  changing  seasons, 
and  amidst  the  beautiful  scenery  of  the  district  where 
he  had  so  long  resided ; and  likewise  of  the  characters, 
incidents,  occupations,  and  diversified  operations  of 
rural  life,  which  had  daily  met  his  observation  in 
traversing  the  country.  Consequently,  he  returned  to 
London,  not  only  physically  invigorated  by  constant 
exercise  in  fresh  pure  air,  hut  with  his  mind  stored  and 
enriched  with  a myriad  of  delightful  images  and  recol- 
lections, which,  added  to  the  treasures  of  his  portfolios, 
were  of  incalculable  advantage  to  him  in  his  future 


career. 


44 


DAVID  COX. 


With  the  savings  he  had  made,  and  something  like 
a thousand  pounds,  for  which  he  had  sold  his  cottage, 
in  his  pocket,  he  once  more  returned  to  the  metropolis 
to  reside.  He  took  a house  in  the  Eoxley  Road,  Ken- 
nington,  which  he  continued  to  inhabit  for  a period  of 
fourteen  years.  There  he  commenced  teaching  drawing 
in  good  earnest,  and  soon  had  work  enough  of  this 
kind.  Many  of  his  old  pupils  again  rallied  round  him, 
giving  him  introductions  to  others  who  were  desirous  of 
receiving  lessons,  so  that  in  a short  time  he  began  to 
make  money  sufficient  for  his  modest  wants.  He  was 
sought  after  far  and  near ; was  applied  to  by  members 
of  the  aristocracy  and  upper  classes  at  the  West  End, 
and  ere  long  was  enabled  to  raise  his  terms.  Even- 
tually he  received  a guinea  for  a single  lesson.  Thus 
the  foundations  of  his  fortune  were  laid.  By  teaching, 
and  by  the  sale  of  drawings,  he  acquired  money  rapidly, 
occasionally  obtaining,  to  him,  considerable  sums,  for 
works  made  as  lessons  for  his  pupils.  He  has  said  that 
many  a time,  when  he  has  knocked  at  a pupil’s  door,  to 
give  a lesson,  he  has  not  had  the  faintest  conception  of 
what  he  should  do  as  an  example,  but  that,  when  he 
had  taken  his  seat  to  begin,  colours,  paper,  and  pencils 
before  him,  an  idea  had  suddenly  flashed  across  his 
mind,  of  some  effect  previously  seen,  which,  coupled 
with  a well-remembered  subject,  he  dashed  upon  the 
paper,  the  result  surprising  even  himself.  On  leaving, 
he  received  a guinea  for  the  lesson,  and  afterwards  sold 
the  drawing  for  a sum  of  perhaps  five  or  ten  pounds. 
His  drawings  sold  at  that  time  much  more  readily  than 


SECOND  RESIDENCE  IN  LONDON:  1827. 


45 


they  had  done  during  the  early  years  of  his  residence 
at  Hereford,  because  he  had  acquired  greater  shill  as  an 
artist,  and  had  become  better  known  by  frequently 
exhibiting  in  the  Society’s  Gallery  in  London ; also 
because  money  was  more  abundant,  and  the  country 
generally  had  settled  down,  after  the  trials  and  troubles 
consequent  upon  the  long  war. 

Five  or  six  years  after  the  publication  of  the 
“ History  of  Warwickshire,”  Cox  received  from  Messrs. 
Wriglitson  and  Webb,  booksellers,  of  Birmingham,  a 
commission  to  furnish  a number  of  drawings  to  illus- 
trate a work  they  proposed  to  publish,  entitled 
“ Wanderings  in  North  and  South  Wales,”  the  descrip- 
tive part  to  be  written  by  Thomas  Roscoe,  of 
Liverpool.  This  interesting  work  was  brought  out  at 
considerable  cost.  Cox,  Creswick,  Cattermole,  Copley 
Fielding,  and  other  artists,  supplied  the  drawings, 
which  were  admirably  engraved  by  Mr.  William 
Radclyffe.  David  Cox  furnished  fully  half  the  illus- 
trations, which  were  very  beautiful,  and  for  which 
he  received  in  payment  the  modest  sums  of  four  and 
five  guineas  each,  discharging  his  own  travelling  ex- 
penses, in  those  days  by  no  means  light.  This  work, 
published  in  two  volumes,  has  been  deservedly  popular. 
Cox,  it  is  said,  was  again  indebted  to  his  friend  Mr. 
Radclyffe  for  the  commission  he  received  to  execute 
drawings  for  this  work,  and  it  was  with  some  reluctance 
that  the  publishers  consented  to  employ  him,  as  his 
name  was  not  considered  in  those  days  of  import- 
ance. They  insisted  on  other  artists  being  associated 


46 


DAVID  COX. 


with  him  in  the  production  of  the  illustrations,  as  the 
public  would  he  more  likely  to  purchase  the  book,  and 
the  outlay  be  more  readily  covered.  Those  who  possess 
a copy  of  this  charming  work  will  agree  that  the  illus- 
trations supplied  by  David  Cox  are  by  far  the  best ; 
indeed,  it  is  because  of  his  work  that  the  book  is  still 
eagerly  sought  from  the  second-hand  booksellers.  The 
second  portion  of  the  work,  “Wanderings  and  Excur- 
sions in  South  Wales,”  did  not  appear  until  some  time 
after  the  first  part  had  been  published,  probably  a 
twelvemonth  or  more.  In  the  interim,  Messrs. 
Wrightson  and  Webb  must  have  discovered  that  the 
name  of  David  Cox  was  of  greater  consequence  to  them 
in  promoting  the  sale  of  their  first  volume  than  they 
Lad  supposed  it  would  have  been,  for  in  a note  at  the 
close  of  the  chapter  descriptive  of  Raglan  Castle,  in  the 
“South  Wales”  volume,  they  say:  “It  may  not  be 
amiss  here  to  mention  the  obligations  which  the  pro- 
prietors of  this  work  are  under  to  that  highly-esteemed 
artist  and  faithful  delineator  of  scenery,  Mr.  David 
Cox,  whose  pencil  has  enriched  and  enhanced  the  value 
not  only  of  this  volume,  but  also  of  that  recently  pub- 
lished on  the  Northern  part  of  the  Principality.”  This 
is  singular.  There  is  now  not  a word  about  Fielding, 
Creswick,  Harding,  and  the  rest ; and  yet,  but  a few 
months  before,  the  publishers  reluctantly  employed  Cox 
in  the  firstinstance. 

David  Cox  had  resided  in  London  about  a couple  of 
years  after  his  return  from  Hereford,  when  it  occurred 
to  him  that  he  should  much  like  to  revisit  the  Continent 


VISIT  TO  PARIS:  1829. 


47 


for  a little  sketching,  and  get  a complete  change  of 
subjects  from  those  which  his  own  country  had  afforded 
him.  He  therefore  made  arrangements,  and  started  in 
company  with  his  son,  landing,  as  before,  at  Calais. 
There  he  made  drawings  of  all  the  objects  that  were 
picturesque  and  interesting,  particularly  of  the  pier, 
crowded  with  people — fishermen  and  others — in  their 
gay  costumes — a subject  he  was  extremely  fond  of,  and 
which  he  many  times  repeated.  Fort  Rouge  also  was 
treated  by  him,  under  various  effects,  and  made  an 
admirable  subject  in  his  hands.  The  author  has 
seen  one  drawing  of  Fort  Rouge  as  luminous  as  Turner 
could  have  made  it  in  his  best  days ; the  sky  glowing 
with  sunshine,  and  the  blue  water  sparkling  with 
brilliant  morning  light.  From  Calais  he  journeyed  on 
to  Paris,  sketching  most  of  the  public  buildings  and 
other  objects  of  interest  on  his  route.  He  made  several 
fine  drawings  of  Amiens  Cathedral.  The  bridges  over 
the  Seine  afforded  him  excellent  subjects  ; likewise  the 
Tuileries,  and  many  other  of  the  public  buildings  in  the 
capital  of  France.  He  worked  most  industriously,  and 
brought  home  a large  number  of  brilliant  and  interesting 
studies,  from  which  he  afterwards  made  finished  draw- 
ings, which  enhanced  his  reputation  as  an  artist,  and 
especially  as  an  architectural  draughtsman.  Shortly 
after  his  arrival  in  Paris,  he  unluckily  met  with  an 
accident,  spraining  his  ankle  in  descending  some  stairs, 
which  compelled  him  to  go  about  the  city  in  a vehicle 
in  search  of  subjects  for  his  pencil,  many  of  which  he 
drpw  whilst  seated  in  the  carriage.  This  accident  rather 


48 


DAVID  COX. 


hastened  his  departure  home  ; hut  his  stay,  nevertheless, 
was  of  several  weeks’  duration. 

He  has  told  the  writer  of  this  Memoir  an  amusing 
story  of  his  difficulties  respecting  dinner  when  in  Paris. 
Having  always  had  a preference  for  plain  diet  and 
simple  living,  he  could  not  enjoy  the  French  cookery, 
being  ignorant  of  the  constituents  of  the  various  dishes 
set  before  him : in  fact,  he  sometimes,  during  that  visit, 
did  not  make  more  than  half  a meal.  Calling  one  day 
at  a restaurant,  and  looking  over  the  bill  of  fare,  he 
observed  with  delight  that  “ calves’  head  ” was  one  of 
the  dishes  for  dinner.  This  discovery  gave  him  sincere 
pleasure,  for  he  knew  what  “ calves’  head  ” was,  and, 
moreover,  had  always  been  very  fond  of  it.  At  all 
events,  there  was  nothing  mysterious  or  doubtful  about 
that  dish ; it  was  a plain,  simple,  unsophisticated,  and 
well-known  English  viand.  He  ordered  some  of  it  foi 
dinner,  and  enjoyed  it  vastly.  Next  day,  and  for 
several  days  in  succession,  he  visited  the  same  restaurant 
to  dine,  and  invariably  ordered  “ calves’  head,”  much  to 
the  surprise  of  the  waiter.  On  one  of  these  occasions 
alas ! as  he  was  turning  the  delicious  morsels  on  his 
plate,  he  perceived — and  the  knife  and  fork  almost  fell 
from  his  hands  as  he  made  the  discovery — several  little 
teats  and  one  or  two  small  bristles  on  the  meat  he  was 
eating  with  such  a relish ! and  then  a light  suddenly 
flashed  across  his  mind,  convincing  him  that  what  he 
had  been  partaking  of,  day  after  day,  with  such  pleasing 
confidence,  as  “ calves’  head” — thoroughly  enjoying  it, 
because  he  knew  what  he  was  eating — was,  after  all, 


HIS  PREFERENCE  FOR  HOME  SCENERY. 


49 


nothing  but  a portion  of  the  belly  of  a small  pig ! His 
disgust  knew  no  hounds  at  having  been  so  deceived, 
and  he  never  entered  the  place  again. 

Cox  paid  one  more  visit  to  the  Continent  for  a short 
time,  but  did  not  care  to  repeat  the  experiment  after- 
wards. He  resolved  to  be  quite  content  with  what  he 
could  find  of  the  picturesque  in  England  and  in  his 
beloved  Wales.  Listening,  one  day,  after  the  lapse  of 
many  years,  to  a conversation  between  two  brother 
artists,  one  of  whom  was  descanting  on  the  beauties  of 
Switzerland,  and  endeavouring  to  persuade  the  other  to 
visit  that  romantic  country  on  a sketching  tour,  Cox, 
who,  on  this  occasion,  could  speak  freely  without  giving 
offence,  interrupted  them  with  the  remark,  “ Bother  to 
Switzerland  ! Wales  is  quite  good  enough  for  me , and 
I am  sure  it  is  for  him  ! 39  That  he  was,  however,  much 
pleased  with  many  of  the  subjects  and  incidents  he  met 
with  during  his  Continental  rambles,  the  fine  drawings 
he  made  and  exhibited  sufficiently  prove  ; but  home 
scenes  had  for  him  a charm  infinitely  greater.  In  Eng- 
lish and  Welsh  scenery  he  found  his  highest  enjoyment 
and  his  truest  field  of  labour. 

Hot  very  long  after  his  return  to  London  from 
Hereford — two  or  three  years,  perhaps — David  Cox 
started  on  a sketching  excursion  into  Yorkshire, 
influenced,  probably,  in  some  measure,  by  the  recom- 
mendation of  his  friend,  Mr.  William  Roberts,  of 
Birmingham,  a native  of  that  county,  and  himself  a 
very  able  artist,  who  had  always  a great  affection  for 
Yorkshire  scenery.  He  took  up  his  quarters  near 

E 


50 


DAVID  COX. 


Bolton  Abbey,  and  made  many  excellent  drawings  of 
tbe  picturesque  old  ruin,  and  of  subjects  be  found  on 
tbe  river  Wharfe.  This  was  a favourite  locality  with 
Cox ; he  visited  it  again  and  again,  and  never  tired  of 
painting  the  Abbey,  in  various  aspects  and  under 
different  effects,  both  in  water  and  in  oil.  Bolton  Park 
afforded  him  many  good  subjects.  His  water-colour 
drawings  made  from  sketches  at  Bolton,  or  in  the 
neighbourhood,  are  numerous,  and  many  of  them  ex- 
ceedingly fine.  On  other  occasions  he  visited  Kirkby 
Lonsdale,  in  Cumberland  ; Bardon  Tower,  and  else- 
where, in  Yorkshire.  The  latter  (Bardon  Tower)  was  a 
favourite  subject,  often  repeated,  with  variations,  and 
from  different  points  of  view.  One  of  the  last  and 
grandest  drawings  he  made  was  of  this  subject — solemn 
and  low  in  tone,  powerful  in  colour  and  effect,  and  full  of 
poetical  feeling.  One  of  his  Kirkby  Lonsdale  subjects — 
a fine,  impressive  work — hung  for  some  time  in  his 
usual  sitting-room  at  Greenfield  House,  Harborne.  It 
was  a moorland  scene,  wild  and  grand ; huge  blocks  of 
stone  lying  in  the  foreground,  and  a man  leading  a 
rough  pony  along  the  rugged  path  in  front,  driving  a 
few  sheep  before  him,  and  raising  his  arm  (it  may  be 
presumed  his  voice  also)  to  make  them  proceed  on  their 
way.  This  drawing  was  in  a somewhat  incomplete 
state,  but  the  essential  features  had  been  put  in  with 
much  effect.  It  was  entitled  “ The  Missing  Flock. ” 
Another  season  Cox  changed  his  ground,  and  made 
a journey  into  Derbyshire.  He  wished  to  make  a series 
of  drawings  from  Haddon  Hall  and  its  surroundings, 


VISITS  TO  BOWS  LEY  AND  HADDON. 


51 


and  for  this  purpose  stayed  some  time  at  that  delightful 
old  inn,  the  “ Peacock,”  at  Eowsley.  There  he  was  quite 
at  home,  being  made  as  comfortable  as  he  could  desire 
by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Severn,  the  landlord  and  landlady,  of 
whom  he  always  spoke  with  the  warmest  regard.  The 
house  itself  must  have  been  entirely  after  his  own 
heart,  as  no  one  who  has  visited  Eowsley  will  for  a 
moment  dispute.  The  writer  once  passed  a very  happy 
fortnight  there,  in  “ days  gone  by,”  and  can  bear 
testimony  to  the  charms  and  comforts  of  the  dear  old 
inn.  David  Cox  was  especially  attached  by  the  scenery 
and  subjects  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Eowsley,  and 
repeatedly  paid  visits  to  the  place.  He  made  many 
most  exquisite  drawings  in  that  locality.  The  pic- 
turesque old  water-mill,  with  the  double  wheels, 
on  the  little  river  Wye — renowned  for  its  trout  and 
grayling — almost  opposite  to  the  “ Peacock,”  he  many 
times  depicted  ; it  was  a “ pet  ” subject,  and  he  painted 
it  as  though  he  loved  it.  Haddon  Hall — his  “ dear  old 
Haddon,”  as  he  often  called  it,  was,  of  course,  an 
inexhaustible  treasure-house.  He  never  could  see 
enough  of  it.  How  frequently  has  that  deserted 
mansion  of  the  Vernons — its  quaint  old  courts  and 
picturesque  terrace,  with  the  crumbling  grey-green  steps 
leading  down  into  the  garden  from  the  shady  walk 
above — its  wainscoted  rooms  and  latticed  windows — its 
time-stained  walls  and  leafy  surroundings — iiow  often 
has  it  been  portrayed  by  his  loving  hand ! And  the 
dear  old  church  at  Darley  Dale,  with  its  great  and 
venerable  yew  in  the  green  graveyard,  and  its  back- 
e 2 


52 


DAVID  COX. 


ground  of  lovely  hills  seen  through  the  trees  that 
encircle  it  with  pleasant  green — how  many  times  has  he 
transferred  to  paper  the  features  of  that  delightful  view  ! 
In  fact,  the  scenery  of  Yorkshire  and  Derbyshire  had 
ever  resistless  attractions  for  David  Cox  ; the  moulder- 
ing priory  of  Bolton — the  stately  castle  of  Bolsover — 
Hardwick  Hall,  with  its  numberless  charms  and 
treasures — and  above  all,  his  dear  and  favourite  “ old 
Haddon  ” — have  furnished  him  with  innumerable  sub- 
jects for  the  display  of  his  genius  and  the  delight  of 
every  true  lover  of  art. 

Cox  had  never  any  very  great  affection  for  lake 
scenery.  For  some  reason  he  did  not  care  for  large  sheets 
of  placid  water  as  many  artists  do,  and  could  not  take 
sufficient  interest  in  them  to  devote  time  and  thought 
to  the  subjects  they  afforded.  Occasionally  he  essayed 
his  skill  on  one  or  two  of  the  Welsh  lakes — Bala  and 
Tal-y-llyn,  and  perhaps  Llyn  Helsi,  on  the  moors  at  the 
hack  of  Bettws-y-coed.  Llanberis  lake,  too,  enticed  him 
to  depict  its  charms.  But  to  the  lakes  of  Westmore- 
land and  Cumberland  he  was  rarely  drawn ; in  all  pro- 
bability he  did  not  visit  them  more  than  once  for  the 
purpose  of  sketching.  He  made  an  interesting  drawing 
at  Windermere,  on  some  festive  occasion  ; but  of  By  dal 
Water,  Grasmere,  Derwent  water,  Ulles  water,  and  the 
rest  the  author  cannot  call  to  mind  a single  transcript 
by  him.  Although  he  did  not  show  much  regard  for 
large  sheets  of  smooth  water,  he  had  a strong  liking  for 
vast  stretches  of  unbroken  sand  on  the  sea-shore  ; and 
the  sands  of  Ulverstone  and  Lancaster  often  drew  him 


LANCASTER  SANDS. 


53 


across  country  to  depict  their  characteristic  charms.  He 
loved  those  far-extending  brown  and  yellow  plains, 
spreading  for  miles  when  the  sea  had  ebbed  away,  with 
their  cavalcades  of  market  people  wending  across  the 
dangerous  route,  under  varying  effects  of  rain  and 
cloud,  shrouding  fog  or  dazzling  sunshine.  Many  a 
time  and  oft  has  he  depicted  them,  both  in  water-colours 
and  in  oils  ; and  among  them  are  to  be  found  some  of 
his  happiest  productions.  The  writer  calls  to  mind  a 
most  lovely  drawing  of  Lancaster  Sands,  of  small 
dimensions,  hut  full  of  light,  splendour,  and  most  beau- 
tiful colour.  It  is  morning,  the  sun  is  up,  and 
shedding  a flood  of  glory  on  all  beneath  ; but  a thick 
haze  envelopes  the  distant  land,  and  reaches  far  across 
the  wide-spreading  tract  of  ruddy  sand,  approaching 
within  a hundred  yards  or  so  to  the  near  shore.  There 
is  apparently  a large  cavalcade  of  travellers,  some  on 
horseback  and  some  in  carts,  wending  their  way  towards 
the  spectator  across  the  wet  ground,  full  of  bright 
reflections — a few  partially  enveloped  in  the  fog,  and 
some  distinctly  seen  in  the  brilliant  sunshine,  whilst  a 
man  on  horseback  leads  the  way  where  the  sand  is 
safest,  and  with  a bugle  to  his  mouth  indicates  the  track 
which  the  party  is  to  follow.  It  is  indeed  a glorious 
drawing — luminous  as  any  Turner,  and  in  the  artist’s 
best  and  happiest  manner.  Cox  himself  prized  this 
drawing  highly.  In  his  portfolio  it  was  protected  with 
tissue  paper  ; and  not  wishing  to  part  with  it,  he  put 
upon  it  a price  which  he  thought  would  prevent  any 
one  purchasing  it.  In  fact  he  asked  as  much  as  £18 


54 


DAVID  COX . 


for  the  drawing — a sum  about  £8  in  advance  of  his  nsnal 
charge  for  works  of  this  size.  Strange  to  say  the  extra 
price  had  the  desired  prohibitory  effect,  until  a short 
time  before  the  artist's  death,  when  a purchaser  was 
found  who  was  too  happy  to  be  permitted  to  take  it  at 
what  the  artist  thought  the  exorbitant  price  of  £18  ! 
Shortly  afterwards  it  passed  into  the  fine  collection  of 
Mr.  Newshain,  of  Preston,  and  probably  no  sum  would 
purchase  it  now. 

These  sea-shore  subjects  are  amongst  the  happiest, 
as  to  the  painter  they  were  amongst  the  best-beloved 
of  his  works.  Whether  on  the  coast  of  Prance,  at 
Calais  or  Dieppe;  or  on  our  own  English  coast  at 
Hastings  or  Ulverstone,  or  latterly  at  Rhyl,  for  which 
place  he  had  a strong  regard,  probably  on  account  of  its 
long  stretches  of  sea-sand,  he  was  most  successful  in 
his  renderings,  and  most  delighted  with  his  success. 
When  at  Lancaster,  for  the  purpose  of  painting  the 
sands  of  Morecambe  Bay  from  Host  Bank,  Cox  made 
various  sketches  about  the  city,  particularly  of  the  old 
castle  on  its  commanding  eminence,  with  the  town  at 
its  foot,  and  its  fine  background  of  mountain  ranges 
in  the  blue  distance  far  away.  Prom  these  studies  he 
painted  the  famous  picture,  entitled  “ Lancaster  Castle," 
with  soldiers  and  baggage-wagons  on  the  way,  and 
reapers  and  a cornfield  in  front,  gazing  wonderingly  at 
the  troops  as  they  march  along.  This  fine  picture — 
although  not  larger  than  24  by  18  inches — brought  at 
the  sale  of  the  Gillott  collection  (in  consequence  of  two 
eminent  dealers  having  unlimited  commissions  to  pur- 


FIRST  EFFORTS  IN  OIL-PAINTING. 


55 


chase  it  for  respective  clients)  something  like  3,000 
guineas.  It  was  originally  presented  by  the  artist  to 
an  old  friend  who  fell  in  love  with  it.  This  gentleman 
kept  it  in  his  possession  several  years,  until  he  had 
forgotten  how  he  came  by  it,  or,  at  all  events,  until  he 
was  one  day  hard  pressed  for  money,  and  meditated 
selling  the  picture.  Meeting  the  artist  accidentally,  he 
said,  “ Mr.  Cox,  I’ve  got  a picture  of  your  painting.  I 
am  short  of  money  at  this  time.  Should  you  mind  if 
I sold  ‘ Lancaster  Castle  ? ’”  “ Oh,  not  at  all,”  replied 

Cox ; “ sell  it  to  me.  If  you  remember,  I gave  it  to 
you ! ” This  took  the  owner  somewhat  aback ; but  the 
end  of  it  was  that  Cox  purchased  his  own  present  from 
his  friend,  and  gave  the  sum  of  twenty  pounds  for  the 
picture.  He  afterwards  sold  it  for  the  same  price. 

During  the  remainder  of  David  Cox’s  sojourn  in 
London,  he  continued  to  work  very  industriously,  making 
and  exhibiting  a large  number  of  drawings,  giving 
lessons  to  his  pupils,  which  brought  him  in  a good 
annual  income,  and  occasionally  painting  in  oil,  a 
medium  in  which,  after  many  attempts,  he  now  de- 
sired to  make  a serious  effort.  He  had  produced 
several  pictures  of  considerable  merit,  which  his  friends 
thought  well  of,  and  which  gave  promise  of  future 
excellence ; he  was  therefore  determined  to  make  an 
effort  to  succeed  as  a painter  in  oils,  and  with  his 
usual  decision  of  character,  set  energetically  to  work 
to  accomplish  his  object.-  As,  when  he  commenced 
painting  in  water-colours,  he  thought  it  desirable  to 
he  put  at  starting  in  the  right  way,  and  applied  to 


56 


DAVID  COX. 


John  Yarley  for  instruction,  so  he  now  considered 
that^it  would  be  advantageous  to  procure  from  some 
master^hand  a little  advice  and  assistance  as  to  manipu- 
lation and  the  management  of  colours,  &c.,  which  would 
help  him  in  the  practice  of  oil-painting.  Accordingly, 
he  obtained  an  introduction  to  Mr.  W.  Gr.  Muller,  who, 
afterjiis  return  from  Greece  and  Egypt,  had  set  up  his 
easel  in  London,  and  obtained  from  him  a few  lessons, 
which  doubtless  were  of  service,  as  to  the  proper  method 
of  working  in  the  unfamiliar  vehicle.  Cox  was  a great 
admirer  of  the  works  of  Muller,  and  thought  the  young 
artist  then,  and  ever  afterwards,  a man  of  extraordinary 
ability.  On  his  first  visit,  Muller  very  kindly  began  a 
picture  before  him,  and  painted  with  such  ease  and 
rapidity,  that  Cox  was  astonished,  for  the  picture — one 
of  moderate  size — was  carried  a great  way  towards 
completion  when  the  new  pupil  took  his  leave. * Muller 

# An  amusing  anecdote  has  been  told  of  William  Muller,  by  an  artist 
residing  at  the  time  in  North  Wales,  which,  as  it  illustrates  the  ease  and 
rapidity  with  which  he  painted  his  pictures,  is  worth  preserving.  The 
narrator  of  this  story  had  made  a journey  to  Conway,  for  the  purpose  of 
sketching  cottage  interiors,  of  which  he  knew  several  fine  subjects  in  the 
place.  Whilst  he  was  sitting  one  evening  shortly  after  his  arrival  in  the 
parlour  of  the  little  inn,  at  which  he  had  taken  up  his  quarters,  a 
stranger  entered  the  room,  took  a seat  by  the  fire,  and  soon  began  a 
conversation  with  our  friend.  They  talked  of  art ; and  the  stranger,  who 
said  he  came  from  London,  and  painted  a little  himself,  inquired  if  there 
were  any  subjects  of  a picturesque  character  in  that  neighbourhood  on 
which  he  could  try  his  hand.  His  dress  was  so  peculiar,  and  his  general 
appearance  so  unlike  that  of  a professional  artist  out  upon  a sketching 
excursion,  that  the  narrator  believed  him  to  be  an  amateur  painter — a 
small  tradesman,  or  clerk,  perhaps,  in  some  city  establishment — taking  his 
holiday,  and  bent  on  amusing  himself  by  doing  a little  sketching.  He 
even  thought  it  not  impossible  (the  costume  of  the  stranger  was  so  odd 
and  unsuitable  for  rambling  about  in,  and  his  manner  altogether  so  re- 


ANECDOTE  OF  W.  MULLER . 


57 


could  work  with  either  hand  equally" well,  and  when  one 
became  tired,  he  would  put  the  brush  in  the  other, 
and  dash  away  on  his  canvas  with  the  same  facility  as 
before.  It  has  been  said  that  when  working  on  a 
picture  of  large  dimensions,  he  has  often  had  a palette 
strapped  upon  each  arm,  and  both  hands  filled  with 
brushes  plentifully  charged  with  the  pigments  he  was 
using.  On  the  following  day,  when  Cox  called  for  a 
second  lesson,  great  was  his  astonishment  on  finding 
that  Midler  had  in  the  interval  obliterated  a great 


markable)  that  the  new-comer  might  be  a tailor  with  artistic  tendencies,  from 
some  West  End  house,  on  a trip  in  search  of  health  as  well  as  the  pic- 
turesque. It  was  not  long  before  the  stranger  gathered  that  there  were 
in  the  place  some  exceedingly  fine  cottage -interior  subjects  which  he  had 
come  there  to  paint ; and  saying  that  he  himself  was  very  fond  of  subjects 
of  the  kind,  asked  if  he  might  be  permitted  to  go  and  see  them.  On  the 
following  morning  he  was  introduced  to  a “ splendid  interior,”  which 
both  agreed  to  paint ; and,  taking  up  their  stations  a little  apart,  they 
very  soon  began  operations.  The  artist  sketched  his  subject  very  care- 
fully upon  the  canvas,  laid  out  his  colours,  and  put  on  a few  tints  here 
and  there,  just  to  feel  his  way  ; and  after  working  for  about  an  hour,  occa- 
sionally looking  over  the  top  of  his  picture  towards  his  companion,  who 
was  sticking  to  his  task,  apparently  not  much  disturbed  by  the  difficulties 
of  the  subject,  he  rose  from  his  seat  to  ascertain  how  the  “ tailor”  (as  he 
thought  him  to  be)  was  progressing.  He  fully  expected  to  see  a poor 
daub,  out  of  perspective,  and  vile  in  colour  and  drawing.  What  was  his 
astonishment  on  discovering  that  the  “ tailor  ” had  nearly  finished  his 
picture,  while  his  own  was  only  a little  more  than  commenced  ! And  such  a 
picture  it  was  ! Such  splendid  colour  ! so  masterly  in  the  handling  ! the 
drawing  of  every  detail  so  perfect ! the  figures  introduced  with  such  skill, 
and  the  whole  so  effective  ! He  was  rendered  quite  speechless  as  he  stood 
gazing  at  the  marvellous  work.  At  length  he  found  words  to  exclaim, 
“ Well ! you  have  astonished  me ! I did  not  think  you  could  paint  any- 
thing fit  to  be  seen ! Why,  you  are  a most  able  artist  ! May  I inquire 
your  name  ? ” The  person  addressed  quietly  responded,  “ My  name  is 
Muller.”  “ Oh ! ” replied  the  other,  with  a groan  of  contrition,  “ why 
didn’t  you  tell  me  that  before  ? I took  you  for  a tailor  / ” 


58 


DAVID  COX. 


portion  of  his  previous  day’s  work,  and  had  made  con- 
siderable progress  with  another  subject  on  the  same 
canvas.  In  answer  to  Cox’s  look  of  surprise,  Muller 
said,  “ I did  not  like  the  subject  I worked  at  yesterday, 
and  have  rubbed  most  of  it  out.  This,  I think,  is 
better.”  He  had  commenced  his  fine  picture,  entitled 
the  “ Baggage-Wagon,”  exhibited  some  years  after- 
wards in  the  International  Exhibition ; and,  in  fact,  it 
seemed  to  Cox  to  be  well  advanced  towards  completion 
with  the  single  day’s  work.  The  next  day  Cox  took 
his  third  and  final  lesson  from  that  celebrated  example 
of  Muller’s  genius.  Muller’s  lessons,  however,  never 
had  the  slightest  effect  in  changing  or  modifying  Cox’s 
natural  mode  of  recording  his  own  ideas  and  im- 
pressions. He  doubtless  derived  useful  hints  as  to 
manipulation,  and  the  “ legitimate  ” method  of  laying 
on  his  colours,  but  the  treatment  of  his  subjects  was 
always  peculiarly  his  own.  David  Cox  was  no  imitator 
of  the  works  of  other  men,  except  on  one  or  two 
special  occasions.  He  thought  for  himself,  and  worked 
out  his  ideas  in  his  own  way.  He  put  his  own 
individuality  into  whatever  he  did,  to  stand  for 
what  it  was  worth.  He  never,  when  painting,  asked 
himself  the  question,  “ How  would  Muller,  or  Turner, 
or  any  other  master  of  the  art,  have  treated  this 
subject?  I should  like  to  make  my  work  resemble 
his.”  He  felt  that  although  his  way  might  not  be  the 
better  way,  it  was  the  only  way  for  him ; that  he  could 
not  accomplish  what  he  desired  in  any  other  manner 
than  that  to  which  he  was  born.  He  has  been  heard 


TAKES  LESSONS  FROM  MULLER. 


59 


to  say,  when  overlooking  an  artist  at  work  upon  some 

picture,  “ How  carefully  Mr. is  painting  those 

trees ! ” or,  “ How  accurately  he  is  representing  those 
stones  in  the  river-bed ! Why,  he  is  painting  every 
stone ! I shall  never  he  able  to  paint  like  that ! 
Well,  well,  I must  work  in  my  own  clumsy  way. 
My  friends  are  kind  enough  to  tell  me  they  like  my 
pictures,  and  I suppose  I must  rest  contented.”  Then, 
with  a few  master-strokes,  he  proved  that  his  friends 
had  good  reason  to  “ like  ” his  works. 

Cox  not  only  took  lessons  from  Mr.  Muller,  but 
admired  the  productions  of  this  artist  so  greatly  as  to 
purchase  several  for  his  own  pleasure  and  study ; and 
he  further  induced  his  friends  in  Birmingham,  when  he 
took  up  his  abode  there,  to  follow  his  example,  by 
adding  some  of  Midler’s  works  to  their  collections. 
There  was  no  jealousy  in  Cox’s  nature : if  lie  had  been 
hangman  at  the  Boyal  Academy,  Muller  would  have 
had  due  place,  even  if  his  own  works  had  been  forced 
to  give  way. 

Cox  made  such  satisfactory  progress  with  his  oil 
painting  after  he  had  received  instruction  from  Mr, 
Muller  that  he  began  to  meditate  a change  of  residence 
to  the  country  again,  in  order  to  give  himself  more 
entirely  and  uninterruptedly  to  the  pursuit  of  that 
branch  of  the  art.  He  had  made  a good  deal  of  money 
by  teaching,  but  was  getting  tired  of  the  drudgery,  and 
his  son,  by  this  time  qualified  to  give  lessons,  was  not 
unwilling  to  have  some  of  the  pupils  transferred  to  him. 
Cox  had  a warmly  attached  friend  in  Birmingham,  Mr. 


60 


DAVID  COX. 


W.  Roberts,  wbo  was  an  admirable  connoisseur,  and 
likewise,  as  has  been  said,  a very  skilful  artist,  well 
acquainted  with  all  the  methods  of  painting  in  oils ; 
and  he  had  other  excellent  friends  and  admirers  residing 
in  or  near  the  town,  and  these  urged  him  to  take  up  his 
residence  in  their  neighbourhood.  Besides,  he  felt  that 
he  was  advancing  in  years,  and  possibly  had  a secret 
wish — the  wish  so  man}^  have  felt — to  end  his  days 
near  the  spot  where  he  first  drew  the  breath  of  life. 
However  this  may  have  been,  he  came  to  the  deter- 
mination that  if  a suitable  habitation  could  be  met 
with  not  far  from  his  friends,  Mr.  Roberts  and  Mr. 
Birch,  a picture  collector  and  a man  of  refined  taste,  to 
whom  he  was  much  attached,  he  would  quit  London, 
and  return  to  his  native  town.  Fortunately,  in  no  very 
long  time,  a convenient  and  pleasant  house  was  found 
for  him  at  Harborne,  nearly  opposite  to  the  residences 
of  his  friends  above-mentioned.  In  due  course  he  took 
his  departure  from  London,  and  entered  into  possession 
of  his  future  abode,  Greenfield  House,  Greenfield  Lane, 
Harborne,  about  two  miles  and  a half  from  Birmingham, 
where  he  continued  to  reside  during  the  remainder  of 
his  life. 


The  author  feels  that  in  a Biography  of  David  Cox,  some  account  of 
Cox’s  old  and  esteemed  friend,  Mr.  William  Roberts — to  whom  he  was 
indebted  for  much  valuable  advice  and  assistance  when  he  commenced 
painting  in  oil  at  Harborne ; who  accompanied  him  on  many  of  his 
sketching  excursions  ; who  was  an  enthusiastic  admirer  and  purchaser  of 
his  works,  and  who  was  a patron  of  essential  service  to  him  in  many  ways — 
will  not  here  be  considered  out  of  place.  The  following  brief  memoir, 
written  by  the  author,  appeared  in  The  Birmingham  Dost,  on  the  30th 


MR.  WILLIAM  ROBERTS. 


61 


March,  1867,  the  day  on  which  Mr.  Roberts  was  buried.  It  may  interest 
some  friends  who  knew  and  esteemed  him,  and  thought  highly  of  his 
artistic  abilities : — 

“ The  grave  ought  not  to  close  over  the  remains  of  our  late  much  respected 
townsman,  Mr.  William  Roberts,  without  some  notice,  however  brief  and  in- 
adequate, of  a man  remarkable  in  many  ways,  more  particularly  for  his  attach* 
ment  to  the  fine  arts,  and  for  his  great  skill  as  a practitioner  in  the  art  which 
he  loved,  and  which  engrossed  his  affections  from  an  early  period  to  the 
close  of  a life  of  eighty  years.  Mr.  Roberts  was  born  at  Darton,  in 
Yorkshire.  He  was  destined  to  commercial  pursuits,  and  in  course  of 
time  entered  into  partnership  with  the  late  Mr.  Wilmott  of  Summer  Row, 
in  this  town.  The  firm  of  Wilmott  and  Roberts  was  for  many  years 
known  to  most  people  in  Birmingham  engaged  in  business — and,  indeed > 
all  over  the  country — and  their  mercantile  establishment  stood  as  high  as  any 
in  public  estimation.  Mr.  Wilmott  dying,  the  business  for  a number  of 
years  has  been  carried  on  successfully  by  Mr.  Roberts  alone.  Mr.  Roberts 
was  from  his  youth  always  fond  of  painting  and  of  the  Society  of  Artists. 
His  commercial  pursuits  frequently  took  him  to  Norwich,  and  there  he 
formed  an  acquaintance  with  an  artist  who  productions  he  greatly  ad- 
mired, and  whose  name  has  now  become  famous — John  Crome.  Mr. 
Roberts  also  formed  an  intimacy  with  another  artist  of  remarkable  ability, 
residing  in  Norwich  at  that  time — John  Sell  Cotman,  the  friend,  and  in 
some  respects  the  model  of  .Turner.  The  elder  Stark,  and  Vincent, 
pupils  of  Crome,  were  also  among  the  friends  of  Mr.  Roberts  at  that 
period ; their  conversation,  and  the  study  of  their  works,  contributed  to 
form  his  taste  and  to  develop  his  own  ability  as  a painter.  Many  were 
the  anecdotes,  amusing  and  instructive,  which  he  used  to  narrate  of  men 
and  their  doings,  to  which  his  friends  have  often  listened  with  delighted 
attention.  Still  further  to  improve  himself,  Mr.  Roberts  took  lessons 
from  the  celebrated  water-colour  painter,  De  Wint,  whose  genius  he 
reverenced,  and  whose  works  he  always  extolled.  Subsequently  he  became 
acquainted  with  a still  greater  artist — David  Cox ; acquaintance  ripened 
into  intimacy,  and  the  two  remained  fast  friends  until  the  death  of  the 
latter  in  1859.  The  works  of  David  Cox  exercised  a powerful  influence  in 
forming  the  style  of  Mr.  Roberts,  whose  drawings  and  paintings  very 
much  resemble  those  of  Cox,  and  are  not  unfrequently  mistaken  for  the 
works  of  that  artist.  The  genius  of  the  two  men  was  very  much  akin. 
Both  took  broad  and  grand  views  of  Nature,  loved  similar  subjects  and 
effects,  and  transcribed  them  on  paper  or  canvas  with  bold  suggestive 
strokes  of  the  pencil.  The  productions  of  Mr.  Roberts  usually  exhibit 
extraordinary  ability,  and  it  has  often  been  remarked  that  had  circum- 
stances compelled  him  in  early  life  to  take  up  the  profession  of  an  artist, 
he  must  have  attained  to  a high  and  distinguished  position.  With  the 


62 


DAVID  COX. 


progress  of  the  fine  arts  in  Birmingham,  Mr.  Roberts  has  been  iden- 
tified from  a very  early  period.  He  contributed  pictures  to  the  first 
exhibition  of  works  of  art  opened  in  this  town,  and  which  was  held  in  a 
room  behind  the  Fire  Offices  in  Union  Street,  in  the  year  1819.  He 
joined  the  few  artists  residing  in  Birmingham  at  that  time  in  making  this 
exhibition,  and  became  a member  of  the  society  then  formed.  He  has 
contributed  several  of  his  latest  works  to  the  Exhibition  of  Water- 
Colour  Drawings,  open  at  the  present  time  in  Hew  Street.  The  late 
David  Cox  had  a high  opinion  of  the  artistic  powers  of  Mr.  Roberts,  and 
of  his  information  on  all  matters  pertaining  to  the  practice  of  painting  in 
oil.  It  is  a fact  that  he  decided  on  coining  from  London  to  reside  at 
Harborne,  in  order  to  be  near  his  friend  Roberts,  from  whom  he  ex- 
pected to  receive  such  hints  on  the  modus  ojoerandi  of  painting  in  oil  as 
would  enable  him  to  master  the  difficulties  attending  that  branch  of  art, 
to  which  he  was  desirous  of  devoting  his  remaining  years.  We  all  know 
with  what  success  the  object  was  accomplished.  The  friends — who 
painted  together;  who  rambled  over  the  country  in  company,  seeking 
subjects  for  the  pencil;  who  spent  many  years  of  their  lives  in  each 
Other’s  society,  or  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  each  other,  cherish- 
ing a mutual  and  most  affectionate  regard — will  not  rest  apart.  To-day, 
the  mortal  remains  of  William  Roberts  will  be  laid  near  those  of  David 
Cox,  in  Harborne  Churchyard ; and  the  same  hallowed  soil  will  enclose 
all  that  is  left  of  two  men  of  kindred  genius,  who  have  left  behind  them 
many  warm  and  attached  friends  that  esteemed  them  living,  and  lament 
them  dead.’’ 


CHAPTER  V. 

1841  to  1845. 

Residence  at  Harborne — Artistic  Pursuits — Sketching  Trips  into  Yorkshire 
and  Wales — Conway,  Llanbedr,  Bettws-y-coed — Death  of  Mrs.  Cox. 

David  Cox  (with  Mrs.  Cox  and  their  servant  Ann 
Fowler)  arrived  at  his  new  abode,  Greenfield  House, 
about  the  middle  of  summer,  1841,  he  being  then  in  his 
fifty-eighth  year.  He  was  delighted  to  leave  far  behind 
him  the  din  and  hustle  of  London,  and  get  hack  once 
again  to  the  quiet  of  the  country.  He  had  lived  in  town, 
since  he  left  Hereford,  for  the  long  period  of  fourteen 
years,  with  only  an  occasional  trip  for  sketching  pur- 
poses, once  or  twice  a year,  to  relieve  the  strain  and 
monotony  of  his  London  life.  He  felt  the  yoke  of  a 
teacher  of  drawing  to  be  galling  him  sorely ; and 
although  by  carrying  it  so  long  and  persistently  he  had 
been  enabled  materially  to  improve  his  circumstances,  and 
to  acquire  a comfortable  independency,  still  he  was  re- 
solved to  get  rid  of  the  burthen,  and  to  pass  the  rest  of  his 
days  in  a manner  more  in  accordance  with  his  tastes  and 
wishes.  Not  that  the  previous  years  of  his  life — with 
all  their  cares,  and  all  the  plodding  industry  they  en- 
tailed, often  weary  and  sick  at  heart,  as  he  must  have  felt, 
when  on  his  mill-horse  round  day  after  day — were 
valuable  time  wasted,  of  no  real  service  to  him  as  an 
artist  bent  on  earning  a conspicuous  position  before 


64 


DAVID  COX. 


the  world.  All  the  while  he  felt  there  was  that  within 
him  which  sooner  or  later,  in  spite  of  all  hindrances 
or  delays,  would  have  free  scope.  As  Fuseli  says : — 
“ Heaven  and  earth,  advantages  and  obstacles,  conspire 
to  educate  genius  ” — so  was  it  with  David  Cox.  What- 
ever of  good  or  ill  fortune,  hard  ungenial  work,  desires 
often  thwarted,  hopes  deferred,  ambitious  thoughts  cast 
down  to  the  earth  and  temporarily  crushed,  had  been 
his  portion  during  the  past,  all  had  served  to  strengthen 
his  character,  develop  and  invigorate  his  artistic  powers, 
and  bring  out  the  soul  of  genius  that  lay  hidden  within 
him.  When  he  took  probably  the  most  important  step 
in  his  life,  of  casting  off  old  supports,  and  determining 
to Fe  a painter,  and  nothing  else;  quitting  the  great 
city  in  which  he  had  flourished  as  a teacher,  and  coming 
down  into  the  country  to  give  his  whole  mind  to  the 
work  of  his  heart,  he  was  fully  prepared  for  the  struggle ; 
his  powers  had  reached  maturity,  his  resources  were 
copious  and  varied,  his  art  knowledge  was  profound, 
his  spirits  were  high  to  exultation,  and  his  courage  was 
equal  to  the  effort.  He  was  determined  to  leave  a great 
name  in  the  annals  of  British  art.  “ I will  succeed ! ” 
said  he ; and  all  who  love  art  confess  with  pride  and 
gratitude  that  he  did  succeed. 

So  soon  as  he  had  established  himself  in  his  new 
home,  and  found  all  things  around  him  comfortable 
and  pleasant,  he  set  to  work  in  good  earnest.  He 
busied  himself  in  preparing  important  drawings  for  the 
exhibitions.  He  looked  about  in  the  vicinity  of  his 
residence  for  subjects  to  paint ; he  took  short  journeys 


STUDIES  AT  HARBORNE. 


65 


into  the  neighbouring  country  for  the  purpose  of 
sketching ; and  he  soon  discovered  an  abundance  of 
material  on  which  to  employ  his  skill.  The  lanes  and 
fields  around  Harborne  were  at  that  time  very  charming 
to  a lover  of  the  picturesque.  Fine  trees  were  to  he 
seen  on  every  side,  rural  cottages  here  and  there  dotted 
the  landscape,  country  people  of  the  true  breed  stood 
at  the  wicket  gates,  or  strolled  along  the  quiet  roads, 
carrying  their  marketings,  or  driving  home  the  cows  or 
porkers  that  had  been  picking  up  a meal  by  the  way- 
side.  There  were  some  pretty  “ bits ” for  the  pencil 
even  within  a few  yards  of  Cox’s  dwelling — views  of 
lane  and  cottage  scenery — fine  sycamores  and  briary 
hedge -rows,  with  peeps  between  of  rural  homes,  ruddy 
in  the  sunshine,  and  sending  aloft  their  wreaths  of 
sweet  blue  smoke  to  the  summer  sky.  With  infinite 
relish  did  the  artist  set  to  work  at  these  subjects,  often 
depicted,  under  various  effects ; and  at  those  which  he 
found  a little  farther  away,  in  the  meadows  and  corn- 
fields at  Metchley,  or  in  the  Park  at  Edgbaston.  His 
fine  drawing  of  “ The  Stubble  Field,  with  Gleaners,” 
made  for  his  friend,  Mr.  Birch,  a large  and  important 
work,  bearing  date  1843,  was  painted  from  sketches  in 
the  Metchley  fields.  Then  there  was  the  old  parish 
church  close  at  hand,  with  its  tree-shaded  graveyard 
and  time-worn  stones ; and  green  meadows,  with  farm- 
steads adown  the  slopes  and  cresting  the  rising  lands 
farther  away;  while  in  the  remote  distance  were  the 
blue  hills  of  Clent,  soaring  above  the  pastoral  and 
placid  landscape,  and  lending  an  additional  charm  to 

F 


66 


DAVID  COX. 


the  view.  These  delightful  home-subjects  gave  much 
employment  to  Cox’s  pencil,  and  he  stored  his  portfolios 
and  sketch-books  with  a host  of  valuable  notes  and 
memoranda.  Within  easy  reach,  also,  was  the  Castle 
of  Dudley,  on  its  proud  eminence,  of  which  he  made 
many  drawings;  and  Warwick’s  stately  pile  was  not 
far  off ; and  the  grand  ruin  of  Kenilworth,  dearly  loved 
and  often  depicted,  was  near  to  him  ; and  Maxstoke’s 
mouldering  Priory,  with  the  picturesque  lanes  that 
lead  to  it,  was  almost  close  at  home.  To  his  favourite 
Eowsley,  and  “ dear  old  Haddon,”  was  hut  a short 
journey  ; to  Sherwood  Forest,  Bolsover,  Hardwick 
Hall,  Lancaster  Sands,  the  lovely  scenery  of  Yorkshire, 
with  far-famed  Bolton  Abbey  as  the  grand  centre  of 
attraction ; to  all  these  old  haunts  and  much-loved 
places  and  objects,  he  felt  that  the  road  was  shortened 
and  that  they  were  easily  to  be  reached  at  any  time. 
His  beloved  Wales,  too,  was  much  nearer  to  him  than 
before  ! All  these  considerations  tended  to  make  his 
new  residence  at  Harborne  a source  of  infinite  satisfac- 
tion and  delight.  His  old  art-loving  friends  of  Bir- 
mingham and  the  neighbourhood  could  also  readily  call 
to  see  what  he  was  doing,  and  give  him  the  benefit  of 
their  advice  and  assistance.  One  can  imagine  the 
pleasure  with  which,  after  a long  day’s  painting  out  of 
doors,  or  in  his  studio,  he  received  the  visits  of  his 
friends,  Roberts  and  Birch,  in  an  evening,  when  they 
dropped  in  on  their  way  home,  to  view  and  admire — 
perhaps  to  criticise  and  suggest  improvements  in — the 
results  of  his  labours.  Their  opinion  was  always 


PROGRESS  IN  OIL  PAINTING. 


67 


valued,  and  their  suggestions  were  frequently  carried 
out.  Or  possibly  they  called  to  propose,  or  arrange  for, 
a sketching  excursion  into  Wales,  or  Yorkshire,  or  some 
other  part  of  the  country ; to  which  he  would  gladly 
accede,  for  the  pleasure  of  their  company,  and  with  the 
prospect  of  a few  weeks  of  profitable  employment  before 
him . Happy  Cox ! Now  he  was  doing  the  thing  he 
liked,  without  distraction  and  without  hindrance  ! Now 
was  the  stream  of  his  art-life  free  to  take  its  natural 
course,  and  flow  on  evenly,  smoothly,  with  growing 
strength,  and  unobstructed  current,  to  the  end ! 

Cox  allowed  hut  a short  time  to  elapse  after  his 
settlement  at  Harborne  before  he  started,  with  two 
companions,  on  a sketching  trip  into  Yorkshire,  to 
Bolton  Abbey.  During  the  following  summer,  he 

visited  that  locality  again,  with  his  friend  Mr.  Boberts, 
and  executed  some  beautiful  drawings,  besides  painting 
from  Nature  several  pictures  in  oil,  which  greatly  pleased 
both  himself  and  his  companion.  On  his  return,  he 
posted  off  again,  with  all  speed,  into  Wales,  having  this 
time  his  son  to  bear  him  company.  During  the  autumn, 
he  went  over  to  Kenilworth,  and  did  some  excellent 
work  there,  in  his  two  or  three  weeks’  stay ; and,  before 
winter  set  in,  he  finished  his  outdoor  sketching  by 
making  a good  drawing  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Bromsgrove. 

Cox  worked  very  industriously  during  the  early 
part  of  the  year  1843,  and  made  great  progress  in  his 
oil  painting.  He  began  to  feel  his  strength  in  this 
branch  of  the  art,  and  was  reluctant  to  lay  aside  his 
f 2 


68 


DAVID  COX. 


palette  to  take  up  water-colours  when  the  necessity  arose 
for  preparing  for  the  annual  exhibition  of  his  Society. 
Two  fine  oil  pictures  which  he  produced  this  year — * 
one  for  Mr.  Roberts,  entitled  the  “ Outskirts  of  a Wood, 
with  Gipsies ;”  the  other  called  “ Washing  Day,” 
painted  for  Mr.  Froggat,  an  old  pupil,  and  a remarkably 
powerful  work,  somewhat  in  the  manner  of  Constable — 
the  writer  of  this  memoir  remembers  very  well,  as  (with 
the  consent  of  all  parties)  he  made  a copy  of  the  first, 
for  Mr.  Thomas  Darby,  a friend  of  Cox’s,  who  was 
desirous  of  having  a recollection  of  the  picture,  which 
he  greatly  admired;  and  as  both  pictures,  some  years 
afterwards,  passed  through  his  hands  into  the  possession 
of  Mr.  Gillott.  Mr.  Roberts  paid  the  artist  £40  for  the 
“ Outskirts  of  a Wood,”  and  parted  with  it  for  the  same 
sum  to  an  old  friend — Mr.  Cooper,  of  Lynn,  who  was 
literally  hungering  for  a picture  by  Cox.  Mr.  Roberts 
borrowed  it  from  Mr.  Cooper,  for  the  purpose  of  being 
copied.  The  “Washing  Day,”  painted  for  Mr.  Froggat 
at  the  very  low  price  of  £15,  or  thereabouts,  afterwards 
became  the  property  of  Mr.  R.  S.  Bond,  an  artist 
resident  at  Bettws-y-coed ; and  from  him  it  passed, 
through  another  channel,  to  Mr.  Carritt,  of  Birmingham, 
who  also  obtained  from  Mr.  Cooper,  of  Lynn,  the  “ Out- 
skirts of  a Wood.”  Both  pictures  were  sold,  for  Mr. 
Carritt,  to  Mr.  Joseph  Gillott,  in  1867,  for  500  guineas. 
At  the  sale  of  the  “Gillott  Collection,”  in  1872,  the 
“Washing  Day”  realised  900  guineas,  and  the  “Out- 
skirts of  a Wood”  the  very  large  sum  of  2,205  guineas. 
Cox  repeated  the  latter  subject — composed  from  sketches 


PRICES  OF  HIS  OIL  PICTURES. 


69 


made  in  Sherwood  Forest — several  times,  both  in  oil 
and  water-colour.  One,  the  same  size  as  that  painted 
for  Mr.  Eoberts,  was  purchased  by  Cox’s  old  friend 
Mr.  David  Jones,  of  Harborne,  and  after  his  death 
realised  (with  a fine  replica  of  the  “ Welsh  Funeral  ”) 
the  sum  of  3,000  guineas  ! 

The  admirable  drawing  (30  by  20)  called  “A  Stubble 
Field  with  Gleaners,”  bought  for  £25  by  Mr.  C.  Birch, 
and  considered  one  of  the  artist’s  best  productions,  was 
also  the  work  of  this  year,  1843 — it  was  sold  by  auction 
recently  (1879,  a time  of  great  commercial  depression),  at 
the  death  of  the  owner,  for  the  sum  of  700  guineas — and 
in  all  probability  so  was  the  very  grand  and  important 
drawing  “ Bolsover  Castle,  once  the  property  of  Mr.  S. 
Mayou,  of  Birmingham,  afterwards  in  the  collection  of 
Mr.  F.  Craven,  of  Manchester.  Notwithstanding  an 
attack  of  illness,  which  for  some  time  compelled  Cox  to 
remain  quiet,  during  the  summer  of  1843,  he  pro- 
duced other  fine  works  besides  those  above-mentioned, 
and  plied  a busy  pencil  when  able  to  paint.  He  was 
not  the  man  to  be  kept  idle  by  trifling  ailments. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  following  year,  1844,  he 
completed  the  fine  upright  picture  in  oil,  “ Caer  Cennen 
Castle,”  purchased  by  a lady  (though  not  directly  from 
the  artist)  Miss  Phipson  of  Edgbaston,  Birmingham. 
Some  years  afterwards,  when  there  was  a great  demand 
for  the  works  of  Cox,  she  was  induced  to  part  with  it 
for  the  large  sum  of  £2,000.  During  the  summer  of 
this  year,  Cox,  having  with  him  as  companion  an  artist 
friend,  Mr.  Harry  Johnson  of  London,  formerly  a pupil 


70 


DAVID  COX. 


of  Muller,  went  on  a sketching  tour  into  North  Wales, 
and  made  studies  of  the  fine  scenery  in  the  vale  of 
Clwyd,  from  Sir  John  Williams’s  park  at  Bodelwyddan, 
near  Rhyl.  Prom  these  sketches  he  afterwards  painted 
two  grand  pictures  in  oil,  with  which  most  art  lovers  are 
familiar;  and  also  made  drawings  of  great  beauty  and 
importance.  When  this  district  had  been  sketched 
over,  the  pair  worked  their  way,  from  one  place  to 
another,  towards  Bettws-y-coed,  staying  for  a few  days, 
on  their  road,  at  the  little  inn  at  Llanbedr,  about  half- 
way between  Conway  and  Bettws.  Hence  they  pro- 
ceeded to  Bettws-y-coed,  taking  up  their  quarters  at  the 
old  “ Royal  Oak,’’  and  remained  there  for  several  weeks. 

Not  long  after  Cox  returned  from  his  Welsh  excur- 
sion, he  journeyed  again,  with  Mr.  Roberts  and  other 
friends,  into  Yorkshire,  to  make  drawings  from  the 
favourite  subjects,  Bolton  Abbey,  Knaresborough 
Castle,  and  other  striking  features  of  the  locality.  He 
likewise  tried  his  hand  in  painting  from  Nature  in  oil 
during  this  excursion,  but  with  no  great  success,  as  he 
thought ; his  friend  Roberts’s  facility  in  that  medium 
probably  causing  him  dissatisfaction  at  the  slow  pro- 
gress he  made  with  his  own  performances.  So  soon  as 
he  returned  home  from  this  trip,  he  set  vigorously  to 
work  at  his  oil  pictures,  being  determined  to  overcome 
the  difficulties  he  encountered  in  painting  out  of  doors. 
He  also  meditated  painting  two  pictures  in  oil  for  the 
London  exhibitions  of  the  following  year,  and  in  all 
probability  made  studies  for  them  from  the  sketches 
brought  back  from  Yorkshire. 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  BETTWS : 1845. 


71 


During  the  spring  of  1845  Cox  was  fully  occupied  in 
preparing  his  drawings  for  the  Water-Colour  Exhibition, 
and  had  ten  or  twelve  in  hand — four  of  them  large  im- 
portant works — “ Knaresborough  Castle/’  “ Brough,” 
“ The  Terrace,  Haddon,”  and  “ Kenilworth  Castle.” 
These,  with  a number  of  smaller  drawings,  appeared  in 
the  London  gallery  the  same  season.  When  this  work 
was  off  his  mind,  and  the  exhibition  open,  he  paid 
another  visit,  in  company  with  his  friend  Mr.  W.  Ellis, 
to  Kowsley,  making  a stay  there  of  about  a fortnight, 
for  the  purpose  of  sketching  “ Old  Haddon,”  a series  of 
views  of  which,  with  the  adjacent  scenery,  Mr.  Ellis 
was  anxious  to  possess. 

Cox  visited  Bettws-y-coed  again  this  year,  and  did 
much  good  work  during  his  stay  of  several  weeks.  He 
had  been  greatly  struck  with  the  scenery  of  that  charm- 
ing locality  on  his  previous  sojourn  there,  with  Mr.  H. 
Johnson,  and  his  admiration  was  still  further  heightened 
by  all  he  saw  on  the  second  visit.  He  discovered  so 
many  fine  subjects  for  the  pencil  whichever  way  he 
took,  that  there  appeared  to  be  an  inexhaustible  store 
of  them,  and  he  resolved  to  devote  at  least  a month 
every  year  to  sketching  at  Bettws.  This  resolution 
he  carried  out,  and  continued  his  annual  visits  to  the 
place  as  long  as  he  lived.  In  the  following  year,  1846, 
the  writer  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  him  there  for 
the  first  time — a never-to-be  forgotten  time  ! On  sub- 
sequent occasions  he  either  accompanied  Cox  to  Bettws, 
or  joined  him  at  the  old  Royal  Oak.”  They  went 
out  sketching  together ; they  were  in  each  other’s  com- 


DAVID  COX. 


72 

pany  most  of  the  time.  They  ate,  drank,  slept  under 
the  same  roof.  It  will  no  doubt  interest  the  reader  to 
have  some  account  of  JBettws-y-coed  at  that  time,  and 
of  the  doings  of  David  Cox  there  and  then,  whilst  in 
pursuit  of  his  art.  This  the  writer  will  endeavour  to 
accomplish  further  on. 

At  the  close  of  the  year  1845,  poor  Cox  had  the 
greatest  misfortune  that  can  befall  a loving  husband. 
His  wife,  his  faithful  companion  for  so  many  years 
— who  had  nobly  sustained  him  during  his  seasons 
of  depression,  early  and  late ; who  had  rejoiced  at  his 
successes,  and  been  elated  at  his  triumphs;  who  witnessed 
his  small  beginnings,  his  many  struggles  for  existence 
or  for  fame;  who  spoke  kind  words  of  encouragement- 
when  his  heart  was  sinking  within  him ; and  who,  when 
his  genius  was  acknowledged  by  the  world  at  last,  was 
more  proud  and  happy  than  himself — his  loving  wife 
was  stricken  with  a fatal  illness,  and  taken  from  him. 
Mrs.  Cox  was  never  strong,  she  was  frequently  ailing  ; 
nevertheless  she  lived  to  be  seventy-four — a fair  aver- 
age span  of  existence.  Although  her  health  had  for 
some  time  been  declining,  and  she  felt  getting  weaker 
day  by  day,  so  that  the  end  might  have  been  seen 
surely  and  swiftly  approaching,  yet  when  the  parting 
hour  arrived  poor  Cox  was  completely  stunned  by  the 
blow,  and  it  was  long  before  he  recovered  sufficiently 
to  resume  his  customary  pursuits.  After  the  death 
of  his  wife  the  old  servant,  Ann  Fowler,  was  in- 
stalled as  his  housekeeper,  with  a servant  under  her 
— Mercy  Tomlinson  — both  much  esteemed  by  Cox’s 


DEATH  OF  HIS  WIFE. 


73 


intimate  friends,  and  both  remaining  with  him  until 
his  death. 

In  the  course  of  a few  weeks  after  the  death  of  Mrs. 
Cox,  when  time  had  begun  to  assuage  the  anguish  of 
separation,  Cox,  thinking  that  occupation  would  be  the 
best  restorative,  went  up  again  into  his  painting-room, 
and  busied  himself  in  looking  out  his  work  for  the 
ensuing  exhibition  of  water-colours,  and  also  in  com- 
mencing his  first  large  oil  picture  of  the  Yale  of  Clwyd. 
This  picture  he  purposed  sending  to  the  Royal  Academy ; 
but  as  he  could  not  complete  it  in  time,  its  destination 
was  the  exhibition  at  Liverpool,  from  which,  although 
extremely  moderate  in  price,  it  was  returned  unsold.  The 
artist  afterwards  parted  with  it  to  his  frame-maker  for 
a sketch  by  Muller,  and  the  frame -maker  sold  it  to  a 
Mr.  Spencer,  solicitor,  of  Birmingham,  from  whom  it 
passed  eventually  into  the  fine  collection  of  Mr.  William 
Sharp  of  Handsworth.  This  gentleman  retained  it 
until  induced,  after  Cox’s  death,  to  accept  the  sum  of 
£2,000  for  the  work.  Besides  the  “Vale  of  Clwyd/’  the 
smaller  picture,  “ Lancaster  Castle,” — presented  to  a 
friend,  and  which,  at  the  Gillott  sale,  brought  so  large  a 
price  (as  before  mentioned) — was  painted  during  this 
year.  In  addition,  Cox  also  made  a number  of  water- 
colour drawings — some  large  and  important — for  the 
exhibition  in  Pall  Mall.  He  paid  his  customary  annual 
visit  to  London  when  these  drawings  were  finished,  to 
see  how  they  looked  on  the  walls  of  the  Society’s  gallery, 
and  to  affix  prices  to  -them  according  as  they  looked ; 
and  then  arranged  with  a party  of  friends  for  another 


74 


DAVID  COX. 


visit  to  Bolton  Abbey,  where  he  remained  some  time 
making  sketches.  No  sooner  back  home  again  than  the 
charms  of  “ dear  Bettws-y-coed  ” began  to  draw  him 
like  a magnet,  and  in  July  he  started  off  once  more  to 
that  favourite  spot,  for  a month’s  sojourn.  He  had 
become  completely  fascinated  with  the  locality ; he  had 
found  there  so  much  to  be  done  that  exactly  suited  him, 
and  was  made  so  comfortable  at  his  quarters  at  the 
“ Royal  Oak,”  that  Bettws  became  his  favourite  sketching 
haunt  for  ever  after.  During  the  month  of  August  in 
this  year  the  author  had  the  pleasure  of  joining  him  at 
Bettws-y-coed,  and  purposes  giving  some  idea  of  the 
place  at  that  time,  and  of  the  manner  in  which  David 
Cox  passed  his  pleasant  four  or  five  weeks  there  on 
repeated  occasions. 


CHAPTEE  VI. 


1846,  et  seq. 

The  Flood  at  Corwen — Bettws-y-coed — The  “ Royal  Oak.” 

It  may  not  be  out  of  place  at  the  commencement  of 
this  chapter  to  give  a brief  account  of  what  the  author 
was  fortunate  enough  to  witness  on  his  way  to  Bettws- 
y-coed  for  the  first  time,  during  the  summer  of  1846, 
particularly  as  it  led  to  the  production  of  one  of  Cox’s 
finest  drawings,  entitled,  “ The  Flood.”  In  company 
with  an  artist-friend — Mr.  Edward  Coleman  of  Bir- 
mingham— the  writer  took  the  train  for  Chester,  on  the 
road  to  his  destination  at  Bettws  (there  was  no  railway 
to  that  place  in  those  days),  about  the  second  week  in 
August,  and  thence  proceeded  by  coach  to  Llangollen, 
where  they  slept.  On  the  following  morning,  after 
looking  about  the  neighbourhood  for  an  hour,  he  and 
his  companion  made  ready  to  continue  their  journey  by 
the  coach,  which  left  Llangollen  for  Bangor,  passing 
through  the  place  to  which  they  were  bound ; but, 
finding  there  was  room  outside  for  only  one  passenger, 
they  hired  an  open  car  to  take  them  on  their  road  to 
Bettws.  A short  time  previous  to  leaving  Birmingham, 
very  heavy  and  continuous  rains  had  fallen  in  that  part 
of  North  Wales,  particularly  in  the  district  around 
Corwen,  and  it  was  uncertain  how  far  along  the  road 


76 


DAVID  COX. 


from  Llangollen  to  Corwen  they  would  be  able  to 
proceed ; but  as  the  coach  bad  gone  that  way,  they 
thought  there  could  he  no  material  difficulty  in  following 
the  same  route.  On  their  approach  to  Corwen,  however, 
they  were  astonished  at  the  scene  which  presented 
itself.  A water-spout  had  burst  on  the  hills  at  the 
hack  of  the  little  town,  and  had  wrought  destruction  all 
around.  Although  several  days  had  passed  since  this 
occurred,  torrents  of  water  were  still  pouring  down  the 
mountain-side,  carrying  with  them  vast  quantities  of 
earth  and  stones — some  of  great  size — into  the  streets 
of  Corwen,  on  to  the  main  road,  and  into  the  adjacent 
fields  by  the  Dee-side.  It  was  a spectacle  never  to  he 
forgotten.  Nearly  burying  the  walls  bordering  the 
main  thoroughfare,  soil,  gravel,  and  great  rubble-stones 
lay  in  heaps  ; carts  and  other  vehicles  which  had  been 
left  standing  there  before  the  catastrophe  were  almost 
concealed  from  sight  under  the  debris;  houses  and 
shops  were  filled  with  water  and  sand ; while  many  of 
the  residents  were  wandering  about  in  a state  of  be- 
wilderment, not  knowing  how  to  repair  the  mischief 
which  had  been  brought  about.  A Wesleyan  chapel, 
standing  rather  below  the  road,  had  been  almost 
wrecked  (a  staff  of  women-scavengers  were  then  busily 
at  work,  clearing  out  the  water  and  rubbish  with  which 
it  was  filled) ; but  the  old  church  of  Corwen,  standing 
on  rising  ground,  had  altogether  escaped  injury,  though 
torrents  were  still  rushing  down  beside  and  around  it, 
hissing  and  roaring  as  they  fell.  When  the  author  and 
his  friend — having  obtained  a fresh  horse  and  convey- 


THE  FLOOD  AT  CORWEN : 1846. 


77 


ance  at  the  “ Glendwr’s  Arms  ” — passed  out  of  Corwen, 
on  their  way,  a small  auction  was  going  on, -of  damaged 
drapery  goods,  from  the  door-step  of  a shop,  a crowd  of 
about  a dozen  persons  standing  at  front,  and  a salesman, 
with  a keen  eye  to  business,  taking  the  “ bids.”  When 
the  travellers  arrived  at  their  journey’s  end,  they  de- 
scribed to  Mr.  Cox  the  scene  and  the  incidents  they  had 
observed,  and  suggested  to  him  the  desirability  of  his 
returning  home  by  way  of  Corwen,  and  making  a sketch 
of  the  place  and  event,  which  he  did ; and  the  powerful 
drawing  of  “ The  Flood  ” was  the  result. 

Great  was  the  disappointment  of  the  travellers  when 
they  reached  Bettws  to  find  that  the  “ Royal  Oak  ” was 
full,  and  that  they  could  not  sleep  there.  Cox,  who 
came  out  to  welcome  them,  was  also  much  vexed,  hut 
recommended  them  to  go  on  to  the  “ Eagle,”  at 
Llanrwst  for  a short  time,  until  there  was  room  at  the 
“Oak.”  On  the  following  morning,  before  they  had 
come  down-stairs,  the  servant  knocked  at  their  bed-room 
door,  to  say  that  a gentleman  was  waiting  in  the 
coffee-room  to  see  them.  Whoever  could  he  he  ? They 
knew  no  one  at  Llanrwst.  Much  to  their  astonishment, 
they  discovered  the  unexpected  visitor  was  no  other  than 
their  friend  Cox,  who  had  walked  over  the  fields,  a dis- 
tance of  three  miles,  to  breakfast  with  them,  and  to 
convey  the  pleasing  intelligence  that  there  would  be 
room  for  them  at  the  “ Royal  Oak  ” that  night,  as  some 
visitors  were  going  to  leave  during  the  day.  This  was 
very  gratifying  news  indeed  ; and  soon  after  breakfast 
a car  was  ordered,  and  the  delighted  party,  with  hag  and 


78 


DAVID  COX. 


baggage3  in  a very  short  time  landed  at  Bettws-y-coed, 
to  stay  there  in  each  other’s  company  until  the  expiration 
of  their  visit. 

And  this  was  Bettws-y-coed,  about  which  we  had 
heard  so  much ! “ And  you  ’ll  like  it,”  said  Cox,  as 

we  descended  from  the  car  to  enter  the  humble  little 
hostelry,  “ I hope,  as  well  as  I do.”  Sure  enough,  we 
did  like  it ; and,  after  the  example  of  Cox,  repeated  our 
visits  again  and  again.  The  author  will  never  forget 
his  impressions  on  entering  the  place  by  broad  daylight. 
The  morning  was  one  as  lovely  as  ever  broke  upon  earth. 
The  sun  was  well  up,  and  shone  brightly  from  over  the 
hill-tops  upon  the  little  cluster  of  cottages  nestling  cosily 
among  the  foliage  at  the  foot  of  overhanging  crags,  and 
which  sent  aloft,  in  sweet  blue  wreaths,  the  fragrant  peat 
smoke  from  about  a dozen  fires.  The  hills  behind  the 
village  were  clothed  with  verdure  almost  to  their  crests ; 
here  and  there  a mass  of  dark-grey  rock  towering  above 
the  green  of  climbing  trees,  caught  on  its  edges  the 
sun’s  rays,  and  was  brought  out  to  the  eye  in  bold  relief. 
The  neighbouring  and  encircling  eminences — some  bare 
and  craggy,  others  covered  with  thick  woods  to  their 
tops — were  partially  enveloped  in  the  haze  of  a summer 
day,  which  gave  them  an  inexpressible  softness,  whilst 
silvery  streams  came  tumbling  down  their  sides  from 
bog  and  tarn  far  away  upon  the  moors,  flashing  through 
the  green  of  the  bordering  trees,  or  falling  from  rock  to 
rock  in  lines  of  unbroken  whiteness  down  to  the  valley 
below.  The  river  Llugwy,  well  filled  by  recent  rains, 
was  dashing  along  its  course  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 


BETTWS-Y-COED. 


79 


road,  underneath  the  wall,  brown  as  umber,  from  the 
bogs  and  peat-stained  waters  of  the  upper  country, 
bearing  along  great  flakes  of  foam,  whirling  through 
rocks  and  stones,  boiling  and  foaming  on  its  way.  Birds 
were  chirruping  in  the  bright  sunshine,  cattle  were 
lowing  in  the  fields,  Chanticleer  and  his  dames  were 
strutting  about  the  road,  near  the  inn  door,  the  village 
folk  moving  leisurely  along ; while,  to  crown  all, 
friends  from  home,  who  were  travelling  through  Wales, 
had  pulled  up  at  the  “ Royal  Oak/’  and  were  waiting 
to  shake  hands  — a most  gratifying  surprise  ! — ere 
they  proceeded  on  their  journey.  The  party  were  Mr. 
Grillott  and  his  daughters,  who  had  heard  that  David 
Cox  was  staying  at  Bettws. 

Every  one  now-a-days  has  seen  Bettws-y-coed.  It 
is  known  well  through  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
land.  It  would  therefore  be  foolishness  to  give  its 
latitude  and  longitude,  or  to  say  that  it  is  situated  on 
the  great  Holyhead  Road,  running  from  Shrewsbury, 
through  Bangor,  to  Holyhead.  Once  on  a time,  when 
David  Cox  first  made  its  acquaintance,  it  was  by  no 
means  so  well  known  and  so  frequently  visited  as  at 
present,  being  then  but  an  unpretending,  insignificant 
Welsh  village,  of  no  account  at  all.  The  exquisite 
features  of  the  surrounding  scenery  would  seem  not  to 
have  attracted  the  notice  of  any  artist  capable  of  tram 
scribing  them  in  such  a manner  as  to  call  forth  the 
admiration  of  the  connoisseurs,  or  create  in  the  nature- 
loving  breast  of  some  favoured  tourist  a desire  to 
sojourn  in  the  place,  with  a view  to  behold  for  himself 


80 


DAVID  COX. 


the  many  picturesque  beauties  to  be  found  on  every 
side.  Edmund  Burke  is  said  to  have  spoken  of  the  Yale 
of  Conway,  or  rather  of  Llanrwst,  in  high  terms,  as 
containing  some  of  the  loveliest  views  he  had  ever 
beheld,  surpassing  even  those  in  the  far-famed  Yale  of 
Llangollen ; but  beyond  this  no  eulogium  had  been 
pronounced  on  the  scenery  around  Bettws-y-coed. 
Until  David  Cox  honoured  it  with  his  visits,  and 
brought  his  genius  to  bear  upon  its  numberless  charms, 
it  was  comparatively  unknown.  In  consequence  chiefly 
of  his  labours  in  this  rich  field,  shoals  of  visitors  now 
flock  to  the  place.  Bettws,  in  the  season,  is  overrun 
with  tourists ; and  artists,  male  and  female,  are  to 
be  seen  on  every  hillside  and  under  every  green  tree. 
This  is  Cox’s  doing.  Like  Caesar  of  old,  “ he  came,  he 
saw,  he  conquered ; ” and  the  name  of  David  Cox  will 
ever  be  associated  with  Bettws-y-coed,  as  long  as  land- 
scape art  endures. 

Eor  a long  succession  of  summers  the  famous  artist 
might  have  been  seen — with  ruddy  complexion,  a figure 
by  no  means  slight,  and  “ clad  in  a suit  of  sober  grey  ” 
lounging  before  the  “ Boyal  Oak,”  smoking  a cigar,  or 
issuing  from  its  then  humble  portal,  sketch-book  in 
hand,  after  an  early  breakfast,  to  jot  down  with  rapid 
strokes  the  leading  features  of  some  lovely  “ bit  ” near 
at  hand,  or  to  trace  the  lines  of  some  more  extensive 
subject,  more  distant,  in  the  Lledr  valley,  or  by  the 
side  of  the  beautiful  Conway  river.  He  could  find 
nothing  in  the  whole  Principality  that  retained  such  a 
hold  on  his  affections — not  even  the  fine  scenery  around 


“ cox’s  land: 


81 


Festiniog,  Dolgelly,  Llangollen,  Barmouth,  or  elsewhere 
— as  the  charming  views  and  subjects  with  which  his 
favourite  Bettws  locality  abounded.  During  his  last 
days,  when  incapable  of  travelling,  he  delighted  to  recall 
to  memory  the  features  of  the  spot,  and  frequently 
exclaimed  how  happy  he  should  he  if  he  could  behold 
“ dear  old  Bettws  ” once  again  ! 

It  has  been  well  said  : — “ The  country  all  around 
may  he  said  to  he  Cox’s  land.  Every  wide  expanse,  or 
lofty  mountain,  every  nook  and  corner,  every  object 
that  meets  the  eye,  every  incident,  and  every  effect  that 
can  occur  in  such  a district,  has  furnished  a subject  for 
his  prolific  pencil.  The  wild  uplands  and  craggy  steeps, 
flooded  in  sunshine  or  veiled  in  mists  ; the  brawling 
stream  and  flashing  torrent,  where  the  water  comes 
dancing  from  the  hills,  leaping  from  rock  to  rock  with 
a great  rush  and  a great  cry,  as  only  mountain-torrents 
can,  seaming  their  sides  with  threads  of  silvery  hue  and 
brightness — peat-gatherers  and  fern-gatherers,  splashing 
through  boggy  fens,  or  wending  their  weary  way  to 
strange  out-of-the-way  places  on  the  hill-side  or  moun- 
tain-top, where  not  unfrequently  the  poor  hut 
hospitable  owner  will  startle  the  visitor  by  producing 
a sketch  or  other  memorial  of  some  artist,  perhaps 
now  of  established  and  wide-spread  reputation,  or  long 
since  removed  from  the  scene  of  his  triumphs  and  his 
mortifications,  who  years  gone  by  had  found  shelter 
beneath  the  lowly,  storm-buffeted  roof.  Shepherds 
tending  their  flocks,  that  browse  peacefully  among  the 
grey  stones  up  the  mountain  tops  ; or  collecting  them 

G 


82 


DAVID  COX. 


hurriedly  together  at  the  approach  of  night  or  tempest ; 
or  counting  them,  one  by  one,  as  they  rush  through  an 
open  gate  into  some  little  enclosure.  Drovers,  with 
their  great  herds  of  cattle  streaming  in  interminable 
succession  along  the  roads  on  their  way  to  the  markets 
of  England  ; ruddy  girls,  in  short  jackets,  and  pro- 
bably without  shoes  or  stockings,  their  long  locks  flying 
in  the  wind,  standing  on  some  point  of  vantage  near 
the  house  door,  and  summoning  the  distant  farm- 
labourers  to  their  meal  with  a blast  on  the  bullock’s 
horn  ; fishermen  throwing  their  enticing  fly  from  the 
rocky  river-banks,  or  groping  for  salmon,  elbow  deep 
in  the  traps  which  are  set  here  and  there  along  the 
stream.  These  incidents,  and  many  more,  characteristic 
of  the  country,  have  been  noticed  by  the  observant 
artist,  and  recorded  in  his  immortal  works.” 

Great  are  the  changes  which  Bettws-y-coed  has 
undergone  since  David  Cox  first  visited  the  place.  At 
that  time  it  could  boast  of  only  one  little  inn,  a 
wretched  house,  with  miserable  accommodation.  No 
artist  who  had  been  tempted  to  stay  at  Bettws  for  a 
few  days’  sketching,  would  care  to  venture  a second 
time  under  the  roof  of  such  an  uncomfortable  hostelry. 
It  was  called  the  “ Hand,”  and  was  situated  just  over 
the  bridge  of  “ Pont-y-pair,”  on  the  road  to  Llanrwst. 
In  course  of  time,  partly  in  consequence  of  many  inter- 
esting drawings  made  and  exhibited  by  Cox  from 
the  Bettws  scenery,  which  drew  attention  to  the  place, 
an  increased  demand  for  accommodation  sprang  up, 
and  other  small  inns  arose  in  the  village,  the  “ Boyal 


THE  OLD  “ ROYAL  OAK ” ^LT  .BETTTFS. 


83 


Oak/5  kept  by  Edward  Eoberts,  being  perhaps  the  most 
comfortable  of  the  whole.  There  was  among  them 
the  “ Swan/5  situated  near  the  toll-gate,  at  which  Cox 
once  or  twice  stayed;  but  the  “Oak55  eventually 
became  his  favourite  quarters.  When  the  author  first 
saw  it,  in  1846,  he  must  confess  that  he  was  surprised 
at  its  unpretending  appearance.  It  stood  close  beside 
the  road  : was  a long,  low  building  only  chamber  high, 
and  coloured  of  a mild  salmon-tint.  Like  other  humble 
houses  in  the  Principality,  the  door,  opened  with  a 
thumb-latch,  when  it  was  closed,  which  was  not  very 
often,  admitting  visitors  to  the  kitchen,  the  better  class 
passing  through  it,  and  likewise  through  the  group  of 
farm -labourers  and  other  rustic  guests,  smoking  pipes 
and  drinking  their  ale  by  the  fire- side,  along  a short, 
dark  passage  into  the  parlour,  reserved  for  company  of 
“ the  higher  order.55  On  entering  the  front  door  the 
eye  caught  a glimpse  of  the  bedroom  staircase,  very 
steep  and  very  narrow,  the  sides  of  which  from  bottom 
to  top  were  decorated  with  saddles  and  harness,  re- 
quiring occasionally  dexterous  steering  by  visitors  on 
the  way  to  bed,  to  avoid  a blow  in  the  face  from  some 
unduly  projecting  piece  of  horse -furniture.  Bacon  and 
hams  hung  from  the  kitchen  ceiling,  ripened  and  mel- 
lowed, no  doubt,  by  the  clouds  of  smoke  from  the  peat 
fires.  The  little  parlour  was  snug  and  comfortable 
enough.  It  boasted  of  a proper  dining-table,  a couch 
more  or  less  easy — rather  less  than  more — and  a suffi- 
cient number  of  chairs  for  all  the  guests  it  could  con- 
tain. The  walls  were  decorated  with  a few  prints,  and 
g 2 


84 


DAVID  COX. 


not  unfrequently  witli  a sketch  or  two  pinned  to  the 
paper  by  some  artist  staying  in  the  house.  The  visitor 
at  that  time  will  recollect  the  bold  fresco  of  “ Catherine 
Douglas  Barring  the  Castle  Door  with  her  Arm,” 
after  RedgraVe,  which  Cox  executed  in  water-colour  on 
the  unsightly  bare  plaster  of  a bricked-up  doorway  in 
the  room,  which  had  not  been  papered  over.  The 
bedrooms — well,  there  was  one  fairly  comfortable 
sleeping  apartment,  containing  two  beds,  which  was 
invariably  given  to  Cox  when  stopping  at  the  “ Oak,” 
and  he  occupied  both  beds,  one  to  sleep  in,  the  other 
to  lay  his  drawings  upon.  Not  much  can  be  said  for 
the  other  chambers.  On  the  author’s  first  visit,  he  had 
to  put  up  with  a small  room  over  the  stable,  the  house 
being  full,  and  he  passed  to  it  by  the  family  apartment  of 
the  landlord  and  his  son  and  daughter,  just  screened  from 
observation  by  a drawn  curtain ; then  through  another 
room,  occasionally  occupied  by  drovers  on  the  road  to 
some  market ; and  so  on,  into  the  chamber  set  apart 
for  his  use  over  the  stable.  It  may  be  imagined  that 
his  slumbers  on  the  first  night  or  two  were  not  of  the 
soundest.  What  with  the  black-looking  drovers  blun- 
dering into  the  room  at  dead  of  night,  and  the  rest- 
lessness of  the  quadrupeds  below,  “ tired  Nature’s 
sweet  restorer,  balmy  sleep,”  was  intermittent  in  her 
visits.  In  short,  the  “ Royal  Oak  ” was  a very  un- 
pretending little  inn  indeed;  but  the  accommodation, 
to  those  accustomed  to  rough  it  on  their  rambles,  was 
such  as  might  readily  be  endured.  The  host  and  his 
daughter,  Miss  Mary  Roberts,  were  civil  and  obliging  ; 


COX  AT  THE  “ROYAL  OAK” 


85 


and  the  provision  they  made  for  the  “ entertainment  9 9 
of  their  customers,  as  regards  table  comforts,  was 
worthy  of  all  commendation.  Board  and  lodging,  at 
the  time  mentioned  above,  to  members  of  the  artist 
profession  who  were  likely  to  stay  some  time  in  the 
house,  were  charged  a guinea  per  week ; but  these  low 
terms  were  afterwards  raised  to  twenty-five  shillings, 
when  accommodation  at  Bettws  became  more  sought 
after,  and  provisions  rose  in  price.  David  Cox  was 
very  happy  at  this  humble  little  inn,  and  so  were 
the  friends  who  joined  him  there,  as  well  as  those 
passing  travellers  who  were  induced  by  the  beauty 
of  the  surrounding  scenery  to  stay  a short  time  at 
the  “ Oak.”  During  the  sketching  season,  Bettws, 
as  it  became  better  known,  was  often  filled  to  over- 
flowing with  amateurs  and  artists.  Their  white  tents 
and  umbrellas,  to  be  seen  in  whichever  direction  the 
eye  turned,  suggested  to  the  visitor  the  encampment 
of  an  invading  army.  In  every  road  or  lane,  on  every 
eminence  or  river-bank,  the  artist  was  encountered, 
bearing  his  paraphernalia  to  or  from  the  sketching - 
ground,  or  beheld  busily  at  work  transferring  to  canvas 
the  beautiful  objects  before  him ; whilst  in  the  evenings, 
after  the  labours  of  the  day,  he  was  seen  chatting  with 
his  fellows  at  the  inn  door,  smoking  pipe  or  cigar, 
and  enjoying  the  delicious  calm  of  the  closing  day. 
Not  unfrequently  two  or  three  resident  artists  would 
drop  in  at  the  “ Oak,”  after  tea,  to  pay  their  respects 
to  “ Mr.  Cox,”  to  talk  over  the  doings  of  the  day, 
and  discuss  a glass  of  whisky-toddy  with  their  pipes. 


86 


DAVID  COX. 


Many  a delightful  evening  has  been  thus  spent,  and 
many  valuable  hints  for  future  practice  have  been 
carried  away  from  the  small  sitting-room  in  the  old 
house,  when  the  “ Master  ” was  honouring  Bettws  with 
his  customary  visit. 

The  popular  landscape  painter  and  Boyal  Academi- 
cian, Mr.  Thomas  Creswick,  sometimes  stayed  for  a short 
time  at  the  “ Oak,”  just  to  paint  one  or  two  pictures, 
and  away  back  to  London.  He  made  himself  very  agree- 
able to  his  less  eminent  brother  artists  in  the  house,  who 
looked  up  to  him  as  standing  on  the  topmost  round  of 
the  ladder  of  fame,  and  consequently  as  an  object  of 
respect  and  admiration.  David  Cox,  not  being  an 
Academician,  nor  likely  to  become  one,  did  not  perhaps 
inspire  those  feelings  of  reverential  awe  in  the  youthful 
mind  as  did  his  more  fortunate  and  titled  competitor; 
hut  he  undoubtedly  was  regarded  with  greater  affection, 
and  by  some  who  could  see  further  into  the  secret 
places  of  art  and  nature,  was  held  to  he  the  possessor  of 
“ gifts  ” which  in  the  end  would  secure  for  him  such  a 
reputation  as  his  lucky  rival  would  never  obtain.  And 
who  will  say  that  time  has  not  justified  their  con- 
victions ? Other  artists,  now  eminent  in  their  profes- 
sion, or  since  then  gone  to  the  grave,  occasionally  made 
the  “ Boyal  Oak  ” their  temporary  abode  during  the 
sketching  season,  and  assembled  round  the  dinner  table 
with  Cox  and  his  friends  when  the  work  of  the  day  had 
been  ended,  beguiling  the  evening  hours  with  pleasant 
friendly  talk. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Bettws-y-coed  ( continued ) — Cox  at  the  “ Royal  Oak.” 

“ Dear  old  Bettws  !•”  This  was  the  loving  phrase  often 
applied  by  David  Cox  to  his  favourite  sketching  haunt, 
after  he  had  made  himself  fully  acquainted  with  the 
charms  of  its  scenery,  and  had  found  such  comfortable 
quarters  at  the  “ Eoyal  Oak.”  He  was  quite  at  home 
there.  Everybody  was  kind  to  him;  everybody  was 
studious  to  please  and  make  him  happy.  From  the 
landlord,  Miss  Mary  Boberts,  and  the  son,  who  often 
drove  him  to  his  painting  ground,  down  to  the  lad  who 
carried  his  traps,  and  the  old  woman  who  knitted  his 
winter  stockings,  all  were  delighted  to  see  him  come  to 
Bettws  again  on  his  annual  visit,  and  all  did  their  best 
to  make  that  visit  for  him  a happy  memory.  And  Cox 
was  happy  there.  He  did  good  work  there.  He  was 
at  the  height  of  his  power  when  there.  His  art- 
knowledge  had  culminated,  and  his  ability  to  apply  it 
to  the  subjects  he  there  found  to  delineate  had  by  long 
practice  become  all  that  could  be  desired.  There  he  felt 
himself  a strong  man,  the  conscious  possessor  of  genius 
at  its  maturity.  Ho  wonder  he  was  happy  at  “ dear 
Bettws  !”  Ho  wonder  that  he  was  enraptured  with  its 
scenic  beauties  ! Ho  wonder  that  he  had  an  affectionate 
regard  even  for  its  very  name ! 


DAVID  COX. 


The  author  is  tempted  to  insert  here  some  lines 
written  during  one  of  his  own  visits  to  Bettws-y-coed. 
He  thinks  that  something  like  the  same  thoughts  and 
emotions  passed  through  the  mind  of  David  Cox,  as  he 
gazed  upon  the  varied  loveliness  of  hill  and  dale,  wood 
and  water,  rock  and  mountain. 

BETTWS-Y-COED. 

t 

Man  loves  the  place  he  has  been  happy  in, 

And  thinks  it  is  the  sweetest  spot  of  earth. 

The  heart  doth  make  it  what  it  seems  to  be, 

Coining  the  beautiful  where  little  is, 

And  where  ’tis  rife  enhancing  every  charm. 

No  matter  if  it  be  some  poor  dull  spot, 

Where  Nature  has  been  niggard  and  unkind, 

Owning  no  grace  to  fix  the  roving  eye — 

Barren  and  bleak — tame,  featureless,  and  drear ; 

Or  like  thee,  Bettws  ! fairest  of  the  fair  ! 

Where  all  we  see  is  beautiful  and  grand  ! 

Around  whose  humble  cots  (that  nestle  sweet 
In  woody  shelter  under  beetling  rocks), 

On  every  side,  whichever  way  we  stroll, 

The  loveliest  scenes  and  objects  meet  the  gaze, 

Stamping  their  impress  on  the  mind  for  aye. 

Majestic  are  thy  hills,  along  whose  sides 

Oft  trail  the  stooping  clouds  ! The  mountain-peaks 

That  rim  thy  grand  horizon,  are  sublime, 

High-tow’ring  above  all,  enwreath’d  with  mist, 

Or  clear,  with  sunshine,  in  the  blue  serene ! 

The  streams  that  wind  amid  thy  peaceful  vales, 

And  joining  soon  in  happy  marriage -bonds 
Glide  on  in  silvery  beauty  to  the  sea  : 

Oh  ! who  can  praise  enough  their  many  charms, 

As  on  along  their  sinuous  course  they  sweep 
Past  rocky  heights  and  tempest-toppled  crags, 

With  breaks  and  falls  and  thund’rous  cataracts 
That  steam  with  spray,  and  shake  the  earth  afar  ! 

Or  ’neath  the  pleasant  shelter  of  green  boughs, 

’Mid  softer,  gentler  scenes — by  farm  and  field — 


CHANGES  AT  BETTWS. 


89 


The  cottage-paddock  and  the  soothing  lawn — 

Oft  spreading  into  glassy  pools,  so  still 

That  not  a ripple  frets,  and  in  whose  depths 

Th’  embow’ring  trees  are  imaged  fair  and  bright — 

The  grand  o’ertopping  mountains — and  the  sky — 

The  summer  sky — arrayed  in  blue  and  gold. 

Along  their  banks  the  angler  oft  is  seen, 

Throwing  his  tempting  fly  from  morn  till  night, 

With  hope  that  burns  a never-dying  flame, 

And  patience  that  might  fit  a man  for  heav’n. 

There,  too,  the  artist,  perched  on  vantage-point, 

Is  oft  descried,  absorbed  in  his  high  task 
Of  limning  Nature’s  varied  loveliness, 

And  toiling  sore  for  immortality. 

The  grace  of  clustering,  pleasant  foliage, 

Thou  lack’st  not,  Bettws  ! for  thou’rt  rich  in  trees  ; 

Amid  the  many  mountain- wastes  of  Wales 
’Tis  thy  peculiar  charm.  Trees  climb  thy  hills 
Up  to  their  tops,  and  o’er  their  stony  sides 
Spread  a green  garb  to  hide  their  nakedness. 

Thy  vales  and  verdant  meads  are  full  of  trees, 

That  lend  a covert  from  the  summer  sun, 

Which  flashes  through  the  gaps  of  tangled  boughs 
Only  to  chequer  and  make  fair  our  path. 

Words  cannot  paint  thy  loveliness,  nor  tell 
Of  half  thy  charms  ! By  those  who  know  the  well 
This  will  at  once  be  yielded  ; but  the  rest 
Will  deem  thee  all  unworthy  of  such  praise. 

Sweetest  of  spots  of  which  dear  Wales  can  boast ! 

What  heart  could  wish  a fairer  paradise 
Wherein  to  pass  the  evening  hours  of  life  ? 

David  Cox’s  much-loved  humble  home  at  this 
charming  place  has  disappeared  from  the  scene  alto- 
gether, and,  as  everybody  knows,  a large  commodious 
hotel  has  taken  possession  of  the  site  once  occupied  by 
its  lowly  predecessor.  In  lieu  of  a few  plodding 
pedestrians,  knapsack  on  hack  and  staff  in  hand ; witli 
a speculative  fisherman  or  two,  armed  with  rod  and 
basket;  or  a weary  artist,  hungry  and  travel-stained, 


90 


DAVID  COX. 


picture  beneath  his  arm,  and  easel  across  his  shoulder, 
lounging  before  the  door  for  a few  minutes’  chat  ere 
sitting  down  to  dinner  in  the  little  old-fashioned  parlour 
of  the  old  “ Eoyal  Oak  ; ” — now  crowds  of  tourists  may 
be  seen  any  fine  day  in  the  season,  promenading  in 
front  of  the  windows  of  the  grand  new  hotel ; playing 
croquet  in  the  garden,  or  sitting  down  in  the  evening 
to  a luxurious  repast  at  its  table  d'hote.  Bettws-y-coed 
has  within  a few  years  become  a busy  bustling  little 
place.  A railway  running  straight  into  it,  brings  daily, 
through  the  summer,  scores — nay,  hundreds — of  visitors 
from  Llanrwst,  Conway,  Llandudno,  Bhyl,  and  other 
neighbouring  towns ; and  another,  more  recently  made, 
running  through  the  entire  length  of  the  lovely  valley 
of  the  Lledr,  from  Bettws  to  Festiniog,  is  intended  to 
convey  lead  and  slates  from  the  latter  place  to  the 
main  line  at  Conway,  and  old  women  with  eggs  and 
butter  to  the  market  at  Llanrwst.  Horror  of  horrors  ! 
a stone  bridge  with  several  arches  carries  this  railway 
across  the  famous  Heron  Pool,  which  many  will  re- 
member at  a bend  of  the  river  just  beyond  the  little 
“ Fish  Inn 55  (now  turned  into  an  office),  once  a con- 
venient halting-place  for  artists  desirous  of  painting 
the  scenery  of  the  valley.  The  Heron  Pool  has  often 
afforded  a subject  for  their  pencil,  and  many  a passing 
tourist  has  stopped  awhile  to  admire  it.  In  this  valley 
Cox  made  many  sketches,  and  found  subjects  for  some 
of  his  finest  drawings.  That  grand  work,  entitled  the 
“ Eagle’s  Crag/’  was  executed  from  a part  of  the  valley 
between  the  “ Fish  Inn  ” and  the  romantic  bridge  of 


CHANGES  AT  BETTWS. 


91 


Pont-y-pant,  at  the  furthermost  end.  Immense  frag- 
ments of  rock,  fallen  from  the  cliffs  above,  cover  the 
hill-side  with  masses  of  every  size  and  shape,  lying 
about  in  wild  confusion,  and  imparting  to  the  scene 
an  appearance  of  savage  grandeur.  The  road  to  Dol- 
wyddelan  passes  through  the  midst  of  this  sublime  part 
of  the  Lledr  valley,  and  a feeling  of  awe  comes  over  the 
traveller  as  he  wends  his  way  underneath  and  among 
these  huge  blocks  of  stone  which  time  and  the  elements 
have  flung  around  him.  Through  the  length  of  this 
lovely  valley  it  is  that  this  new  railway  takes  its 
course,  with  what  effect  on  the  scenery  may  be  readily 
imagined ; and  “ dear  old  Bettws  ” has  lost  the  quiet, 
out-of-the-world,  friendly  look  which  some  fondly  re- 
member thirty  years  ago.  There  is  a well-appointed 
station  close  at  hand,  with  omnibuses,  cabs,  and  other 
vehicles  continually  plying  to  and  from  the  trains* 
Lodging-houses  have  sprung  up  on  every  side ; and 
shops  for  the  sale  of  various  merchandise  display  their 
wares  along  the  great  road  that  runs  through  the  once 
sequestered  village.  When  the  author  first  visited 
Bettws,  in  1846,  it  could  boast  of  only  one  small  shop 
— a mere  cottage,  with  a little  window,  in  which  a few 
useful  articles  were  exposed  for  sale — tea,  sugar,  candles, 
soap,  and  other  things  the  villagers  might  require.  A 
small  stock  of  turpentine  was  generally  kept  there,  in 
case  any  artist  staying  in  the  place  should  run  short  of 
that  indispensable  article.  Much  Welsh,  and  a little 
English,  was  spoken  at  “the  shop.”  Since  that  time 
the  petty  village  has  made  a great  stride  in  advance. 


92 


DAVID  COX. 


The  old  church  has  been  found  too  small  to  accommo- 
date the  visitors  who  crowd  into  Bettws  during  “the 
season/’  and  a new  one  has  been  erected,  devoted  to 
the  English-speaking  community  entirely.  More  sur- 
prising still ! at  the  back  of  the  old  church,  and  near 
the  side  of  the  “sweet-flowing”  river  Conway,  the  visitor 
may  behold  in  all  its  ugliness  an  unsightly  gasometer, 
placed  there  for  the  very  desirable  purpose  of  lighting 
“ dear  old  Bettws  ” with  gas  ! The  railway  station, 
with  its  shrieking  engines  and  multitudinous  noises, 
almost  abuts  upon  the  wall  of  the  old  churchyard, 
with  its  venerable  yews,  once  sacred  to  quiet,  and 
sweet  with  the  repose  of  its  secluded  position  amid  the 
mountains  that  screened  it  from  the  world ; and  a wide 
thoroughfare  now  conducts  the  traveller  to  the  railway- 
platform,  near  the  very  spot,  and  almost  over  the  very 
ground,  where  of  old  might  have  been  seen,  on  a Sab- 
bath morning,  groups  of  pious  villagers  wending  their 
way,  in  twos  and  threes,  to  that  sacred  fabric  where  for 
generations  their  forefathers  had  assembled  to  offer  up 
their  prayers.  Cox’s  beautiful  and  impressive  picture, 
“A  Welsh  Funeral,”  was  painted  from  an  incident  he 
witnessed  on  the  spot  here  described.  A young  woman 
of  the  village  had  died  of  consumption,  and  was  being 
carried  to  her  resting-place  in  the  old  churchyard,  down 
the  ancient  road — grass-grown,  stony,  and  bordered  with 
rank  weeds — followed  by  a crowd  of  men,  women,  and 
children  in  motley  garb,  some  with  a bit  of  mourning 
thrown  over  their  dress  out  of  respect  to  the  deceased, 
and  all  solemnly  and  silently  following  the  coffin  to  the 


THE  “ WELSH  FUNERAL.” 


93 


grave.  The  road — a narrow  lane — was  then  skirted 
and  overhung  with  venerable  sycamores,  which  flung 
broad  shadows  across  the  path,  and  formed  a somewhat 
gloomy  approach  to  the  sacred  edifice ; but  the  evening 
sun  on  that  occasion  shone  upon  the  tree-tops,  glinted 
on  the  old  belfry,  and  threw  its  glowing  rays  over  the 
sweet  background  of  purple  mountains  seen  beyond  the 
church,  whilst  here  and  there  a glittering  beam  fell 
through  the  branches  of  the  trees  on  one  or  two  of  the 
throng  slowly  wending  their  way  down  the  lane. 
David  Cox  seized  on  this  touching  incident,  and  fixed 
it  upon  canvas  for  the  delight  of  all  sympathetic  hearts, 
The  picture  (he  repeated  the  subject,  with  variations, 
several  times,  both  in  oil  and  water-colours)  is  certainly 
one  of  his  most  impressive  works,  and  is  handled  with 
a skill  peculiarly  happy.  The  large  water-colour  draw- 
ing of  this  subject,  exhibited  at  the  Pall  Mall  Gallery 
in  1850 — a truly  magnificent  production — strange  to 
say,  did  not  find  a ready  purchaser  there,  although  its 
price  was  extremely  low.  Mr.  Topham,  the  eminent 
artist,  induced  a prizeholder  in  the  London  Art  Union 
to  make  choice  of  it  for  his  prize  of  £50 ; but  this 
individual  soon  became  tired  of  it  (not  being  pretty 
enough,  probably,  for  his  taste),  and,  Mr.  Topham,  dis- 
gusted, doubtless,  took  it  off  his  hands,  giving  him  the 
money,  which  most  likely  pleased  him  a great  deal 
better.  This  fine  drawing  is  now  in  the  collection  ot 
Mr.  F.  Craven,  of  Manchester. 

Cox,  as  it  has  been  before  said,  felt  himself  quite  at 
home  at  the  “ Eoyal  Oak,”  where  everything  possible  was 


94 


DAVID  COX. 


done  to  insure  his  comfort  and  convenience.  He  was  a 
sort  of  little  king  at  Bettws,  was  waited  on,  respected, 
and  beloved  by  all  who  came  into  contact  with  him. 
Lord  Willoughby  might  be  owner  of  the  soil,  but  David 
Cox  was  lord  of  the  people’s  affections.  Many  a kind 
thing  has  been  done  for  him  by  the  poor  residents  about 
the  place,  and  many  a kindness  has  be  rendered  to  them 
in  return.  His  arrival  was  not  unfrequently  marked  by 
a small  present  of  tobacco  for  some  smoker,  or  a pocket- 
knife  for  the  boy  who  usually  carried  bis  painting 
“ traps ; ” and  an  old  woman,  whom  be  had  known 
some  time,  was  speedily  set  to  work  to  knit  woollen 
stockings  for  bis  own  wear,  and  for  some  of  bis 
Birmingham  friends.  There  was  generally  a great 
contention  among  the  village  lads  as  to  which  should 
be  his  “ tiger,”  to  carry  the  sketching  apparatus  for  the 
season;  and  “ Mr.  Cox’s  boy  ” always  looked  upon  him- 
self as  in  the  proudest  position  of  them  all.  Hot  even 
the  lad  who  carried  the  easel  and  colour-box  for  Mr. 
Thomas  Creswick,  the  great  B.A.,  felt  so  elated  and 
raised  above  his  fellows,  as  did  “ little  John,”  who,  with 
canvas  on  back  and  sketching- stool  in  hand,  trotted  in 
the  rear  of  David  Cox,  the  veteran  artist  and  kind- 
hearted  man,  who  gave  himself  no  airs  of  greatness,  but 
went  about  humbly  and  unpretendingly,  and  had  a good- 
natured  word  for  every  one  he  met.  To  young  artists 
of  his  acquaintance  who  were  trying  their  “ ’prentice 
hands  ” upon  the  scenery  of  Bettws,  he  often  gave  most 
valuable  hints,  and  sometimes  took  their  palette  and 
pencils  in  hand,  to  show  them  how  to  master  the  diffi- 


“FAT  HOYLE”:  A CHARACTER 


95 


culties  that  beat  them  down.  “Well,  how  are  you  getting 
on?”  he  has  said  to  one  of  these  aspirants  for  fame 
whom  he  has  encountered  on  the  way.  “ Oh,  Mr.  Cox, 
I am  making  a terrible  daub  of  my  picture.  I find 

nature  a great  deal  too  hard  for  me  to  imitate.”  “ And 

so  it  has  been  many  a time  for  me  ; and  I have  often 
rubbed  out  my  morning’s  work,  disgusted  with  what  I 
had  done.  Lend  me  your  palette  and  brushes,  and  I 
will  do  a hit  for  you.”  And  he  has  sat  down  to  battle 
with  the  difficult  part,  and  by  a few  effective  touches 
has  soon  put  matters  right,  to  the  surprise  and 
gratification  of  the  discomfited  tyro  A'  He  has  said 
to  a friend,  “ Mr.  has  kindly  given  me  a tube  of 

# There  was  at  that  time  a resident  at  the  “ Royal  Oak,”  of  the  name 
of  Hoyle,  a remarkably  stout  man,  known  to  all  the  visitors  as  “ Fat 
Hoyle.”  This  gentleman,  who  possessed  some  small  artistic  abilities 
occasionally  essayed  his  skill  in  painting  from  nature,  but  very  frequently 
broke  down  under  difficulties  which  he  found  insurmountable.  He  was 
prone  to  call  in  the  aid  of  his  friend  Cox,  who  might  happen  to  be  near 
him  when  at  work,  to  show  him  how  to  overcome  the  difficulty.  “Mr. 
Cox,  will  you  kindly  put  a few  touches  on  my  sky  ? I cannot  make  the 
clouds  float  as  they  should  do.”  In  fact,  the  clouds  were  as  hard  as  iron, 
and  as  heavy.  Cox  would  smile  at  the  request,  take  up  Hoyle’s  palette 
and  brushes,  and  in  a short  time  paint  over,  not  the  sky  only,  but  nearly 
the  whole  of  Hoyle’s  sketch,  burying  completely  that  amateur’s  own  work. 
Many  a picture  of  Hoyle’s  did  David  Cox  “ touch  up  ” in  this  manner, 
and  turn  an  abortive  effort  into  a saleable  production.  To  those  who  were 
not  in  the  secret,  Hoyle  used  sometimes  to  exhibit  these  sketches  as  pro- 
ductions of  his  own,  and  surprise  his  visitors  with  his  cleverness.  He  was 
a jolly  sort  of  fellow  in  his  way,  and  many  of  the  sojourners  at  the  “ Oak  ” 
liked  him.  He  always  took  the  head  of  the  table  at  dinner,  and  carved 
for  the  party.  Artists  who  visited  Bettws  for  the  first  time,  found  him  of 
service  to  them  in  many  respects.  He  was  well  acquainted  with  all  the 
picturesque  and  paintable  subjects  of  the  district.  He  would  direct  them 
where  to  find  the  grand  views  and  choice  “ bits  ” which  Cox,  or  Creswick, 
or  some  other  eminent  artist,  had  drawn  and  painted.  “ Mr.  Cox,  sir, 
made  a grand  thing  from  the  subject  I tell  you  of;  ” or,  “ Mr.  Creswick, 


96 


DAVID  COX. 


white”  (or  some  other  colour  of  which  he  was  deficient). 
“ I will  make  him  a little  drawing  before  I go  home,” 
and  a very  charming  sketch  has  been  the  welcome 
compensation.  His  advice  to  young  artists  whom  he 
saw  working  with  great  timidity  and  slowness,  was, 
“ Don’t  spare  the  paint ! Use  plenty  of  colour,  and 
dab  at  it!”  Very  excellent  advice  too;  as  it  not 
unfrequently  happens  that  the  result  of  much  pains- 
taking, with  only  a half- filled  brush,  is  an  extremely 
tame,  insipid  picture.  Cox  knew  that  the  spirit  of  a 
scene  was  more  likely  to  be  caught  by  painting  rapidly 
with  a pencil  well  charged  with  pigment,  than  by 
devoting  days  or  weeks  to  the  subject,  elaborating  each 
part  with  painful  slowness  and  a pencil  only  just  tipped 
with  colour. 

the  Royal  Academician,  painted  a fine  large  picture,  which  he  sold  for  a 
considerable  sum,  on  the  spot  I pointed  out  to  him  in  the  Lledr  valley. 
You  will  find  it  just  beyond  the  bridge.  I sat  beside  him  the  greater  part 
of  a day,  whilst  he  was  at  work.  He  was  a very  rapid  painter,  sir,  and 
nearly  finished  the  picture  at  a sitting.”  Hoyle  could  relate  many  anec- 
dotes of  the  artist  brotherhood  who  visited  Bettws  during  his  residence 
there,  and  over  his  evening  glass  would  often  be  very  good  company.  He 
was  fond  of  fishing,  as  well  as  of  painting,  and  was  useful  to  the  disciples 
of  Izaak  Walton,  who  paid  their  half-crown  a day  to  “try”  for  trout  or 
salmon  in  the  rivers  of  Bettws.  He  knew  many  of  the  likely  places  for 
fish,  and  made  friends  by  giving  information.  Latterly,  when  he  became 
extremely  stout,  he  found  the  exercise  of  fishing  too  fatiguing,  and 
contented  himself  with  looking  on  while  others  followed  the  sport.  His 
rod  was  suspended  over  the  door  of  the  little  parlour  of  the  “ Oak,”  when 
he  lodged  there,  and  he  had  many  an  exploit  to  boast  of  in  connection 
with  that  interesting  instrument.  David  Cox  made  a clever  sketch  of 
him,  walking  along  with  his  rod  over  his  broad  shoulder,  and  carrying  a 
large  salmon  by  the  gills.  It  was  a back  view,  in  his  tartan  coat  and 
breeks,  and  with  the  “ wide-awake  ” hat  and  feather  knowingly  cocked  on 
the  side  of  his  head.  Poor  “ Fat  Hoyle  ” has  been  many  years  buried  in 
Bettws  Churchyard. 


THE  SIGNBOARD  AT  THE  “ROYAL  OAKP 


97 


It  is  well  known,  to  thousands  now,  that  David  Cox 
painted  the  sign  once  suspended  above  the  door  of  the 
“ Eoyal  Oak/’  Since  the  artist’s  death,  this  has  been 
framed  and  glazed  at  the  expense  of  some  old  sojourners 
at  the  inn,  and  removed  into  the  house — hanging,  when 
the  writer  last  saw  it,  in  the  entrance-hall  of  the 
present  great  hotel.  It  is  rather  coarsely  executed, 
Cox’s  practice  as  a scene-painter  at  the  theatres  in  early 
days  having  taught  him  the  kind  of  manipulation 
required  to  make  the  subject  effectively  seen  at  a dis- 
tance ; nevertheless,  it  exhibits  ideas  and  touches  very 
characteristic  of  the  artist.  King  Charles  is  partially 
beheld,  seated  in  the  middle  of  the  great  oak — a fine 
old  forest  tree — but,  in  violation  of  all  established  rule 
in  treating  the  subject,  he  does  not  wear  his  golden 
crown,  being  much  more  appropriately  dressed  for  the 
occasion  ! The  original  sign  had  for  a long  time  battled 
with  sun  and  rain,  so  that  its  pristine  brightness  had 
considerably  faded.  In  fact,  it  had  become  a very 
enigmatical  affair,  and  certainly  required  a few  words 
underneath  to  inform  the  passing  traveller  that  it  was 
the  veritable  “ Eoyal  Oak  ” he  was  indeed  gazing  at. 
Cox  had  promised  the  landlord  that  some  fine  day,  when 
he  should  have  nothing  better  to  do,  he  would  “ touch 
it  up/’  and  restore  its  faded  charms.  Accordingly,  one 
day  he  procured  a ladder,  and  with  palette  on  thumb,  and 
a handful  of  brushes,  he  set  vigorously  to  work.  He 
had  not  been  long  thus  occupied,  dabbing  away  with 
plenty  of  pigment,  the  forest  monarch  putting  forth 
new  foliage  of  most  verdant  hue,  and  the  herbage  at 

H 


98 


DAVID  COX. 


foot  springing  into  life  and  beauty  at  every  touch,  when 
it  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that  his  position  at  that 
moment  was  not  a very  dignified  one  for  an  artist  of 
reputation,  and  that  should  any  one  pass  who  knew 
him,  a story  might  he  circulated  not  greatly  to  his 
advantage.  But  he  comforted  himself  with  the  reflec- 
tion that  possibly  he  might  get  through  his  task  un- 
observed, or  that,  if  noticed  at  all  by  any  passing 
traveller,  he  would  be  taken  to  be  the  legitimate  sign- 
painter  of  the  district,  who  had  been  engaged  to  do  the 
job.  Before  long  he  heard  the  sound  of  a carriage 
approaching.  “ Now,”  thought  he,  “ I’m  caught ! ” 
Still  he  kept  his  place  on  the  ladder,  and  painted  away, 
never  looking  round  to  ascertain  who  or  what  was 
coming.  Greatly  to  his  dismay,  the  vehicle  stopped  at 
the  very  foot  of  the  ladder,  the  carriage  door  was 
opened,  the  steps  were  let  down,  and  presently  he 
perceived  a sweet  female  face  peeping  at  him  from 
below.  “ Why,  it  is  Mr.  Cox,  I declare  ! ” greeted  his 
ear,  and  made  him  almost  drop  to  the  ground.  “ You 
are  not  painting  for  fame,  sir,  now ! ” Looking  down, 
he  discovered  that  the  lady  was  an  old  London  pupil, 
who  had  recently  been  married,  and  was  then  travelling 
through  Wales  with  her  husband. 

In  the  previous  chapter  it  has  been  said  that  Cox 
embellished  the  parlour  of  the  “ Boyal  Oak  ” with  a 
large  picture  in  water-colour  on  the  bare  plaster  of  a 
bricked-up  doorway — “ Catherine  Douglas  Barring  the 
Castle  Door  with  her  Arm  ” — after  Bedgrave.  This  was 
done  on  a wet  day,  when  he  could  not  get  out  of  the 


THE  VISITORS’  BOOK  AT  THE  “ OAK.” 


99 


house.  It  was  effectively  painted,  and  surprised  many 
a stranger  on  first  entering  the  room.  Great  care  was 
taken  to  preserve  it  uninjured.  Cox  also  purchased  the 
first  portion  of  a visitors’  hook  for  the  house,  and 
made  a clever  vignette  drawing  of  a “ Forest  Oak ” as 
a frontispiece,  inscribing  his  name  on  the  first  page. 
This  book  soon  became  filled  with  names  of  visitors, 
sketches  by  amateurs  and  artists,  verses,  and  occasional 
remarks ; so  that  it  had  to  be  enlarged  by  repeated 
additions,  and  became  a bulky  work  of  several  volumes. 
Some  of  the  drawings  it  contained  were  made  by  artists 
of  eminence,  who  were  staying  at  the  “Oak,”  but 
whether  they  are  to  be  found  at  the  present  time  where 
they  were  originally  placed  is  by  no  means  certain. 
Visitors’  books,  particularly  at  houses  of  entertainment 
like  the  “ Royal  Oak,”  have  too  frequently  been  pil- 
laged by  unscrupulous  persons  of  whatever  meritorious 
works  of  art  they  possessed ; these  gepteel  robbers 
doubtless  being  of  opinion  that  they  had  as  good  a 
right  to  what  they  could  lay  hands  on,  and  secretly 
convey  away,  as  the  owners  of  the  books.  It  is  to  be 
feared  that  the  visitors’  book  at  the  “ Oak  ” has  not 
altogether  escaped  the  spoiler. 


h 2 


CHAPTER  Till. 


Cox  at  Bettws  [continued) — Sketching  Trips  in  the  Vicinity — Bad  Weather. 

Very  delightful  were  the  little  sketching  excursions 
which  the  writer,  in  company  with  David  Cox  and  other 
artist-friends,  frequently  made  in  the  district  around 
Bettws-y-coed.  A vehicle  was  chartered  to  convey  the 
party  to  the  spot  chosen  for  the  day’s  work — painters, 
“ tigers,”  materials,  and  all ! And  off  they  started,  soon 
after  breakfast,  full  of  spirits,  and  with  the  hope  of  a 
fine  day  before  them.  Joke,  anecdote,  and  innocent 
merriment  enlivened  the  way.  “ I trust  it  will  keep 
fine,”  said  one.  “ I am  afraid  it  will  rain,”  said  another, 
observing  a thin  curtain  of  mist  drawing  along  the  tops 
of  the  hills.  “ He  who  watch eth  the  clouds  shall  want 
in  harvest,”  said  a third,  quoting  Scripture  for  encour- 
agement. “ I believe  it  will  he  a fine  day,  and  perhaps 
a hot  one,”  struck  in  Mr.  Cox.  “ See ! the  crows  are 
going  off  to  the  hills,  and  cattle  are  seeking  the  high 
lands — almost  infallible  signs  of  fine  weather.  But 
suppose  the  day  should  turn  out  showery  ? Wales  is 
far  grander  under  lowering  skies  than  beneath  a bright 
and  glittering  sun.  I love  to  see  the  mists  hanging 
about  the  mountain-tops,  and  the  distant  peaks  almost 
black  with  intensity  of  colour.  Let  me  also  catch  a 
glimpse  of  a horizontal  streak  of  light  between  and 


A SKETCH-DAY  AT  CAPEL  CUBIC. 


101 


beyond  those  far-off  peaks,  jnst  to  indicate  that  it  is  not 
going  to  he  stormy  for  ever  ! — to  afford  one  spot  of 
repose  for  the  eye  and  mind  to  dwell  on  in  the  tem- 
pestuous scene — and  I ask  for  no  effect  finer  or  better. 
Drive  on,  coachman  ! ” And  in  this  manner  the  little 
party  chatted  and  passed  the  time  on  their  way,  may  be, 
to  Capel  Curig,  to  depict  some  scene  on  the  romantic 
river  Llugwy ; or  still  further  on,  where  the  picturesque 
bridge  of  Pont-y-garth  spans  the  stream  that  comes 
tumbling  down  from  tarns  and  lakes  in  the  rugged 
hollows  of  Snowdon ; or,  taking  an  opposite  direction,  to 
essay  their  skill  in  transcribing  the  features  of  some 
lovely  subject  in  the  valley  of  the  Lledr — most  beautiful 
of  all  the  valleys  of  Wales  ! 

The  author  bears  in  lasting  remembrance  a delight- 
ful day  spent  in  company  with  David  Cox  and  two 
other  friends  beside  the  little  mountain  stream  above- 
mentioned,  whilst  endeavouring  to  paint  the  romantic 
Bridge  of  Pont-y-garth  and  its  surrounding  scenery. 
The  party  started  early  from  Bettws  in  the  “ Oak  ” car, 
an  open  vehicle,  having  a seat  on  each  side,  the  door  and 
steps  at  back,  and  the  driver  perched  aloft  on  a box  at 
front  of  the  car — canvases,  easels,  colour-boxes,  and 
the  artists  themselves,  more  than  filling  the  carriage ; 
whilst  a couple  of  lads,  engaged  to  look  after  the 
“ traps,”  sat  on  the  shafts  to  the  right  and  left  of  the 
driver.  It  was  a somewhat  heavy  load  for  the  horse, 
but  he  dashed  along  at  a rattling  pace ; the  keen 
morning  air  and  the  prospect  of  a fine  day  put  all  in 
high  spirits ; and  the  sketching-ground  was  reached  in 


102 


DAVID  COX. 


good  time  for  a fair  day’s  work.  Stations  were  speedily 
selected,  the  party  being  separated  by  short  distances  '> 
easels  were  planted  in  convenient  spots ; canvases  were 
fixed  and  made  fast  against  the  wind ; palettes  were 
“ set/’  and  painting  soon  commenced  in  earnest.  Two 
or  three  hours’  work  had  been  done,  and  some  progress 
made  with  the  sketches,  when  luncheon  time  arrived ; 
the  painters  for  awhile  joined  company ; lunch  was 
eaten  with  a relish  never  to  he  forgotten,  and  washed 
down  with  water  from  a neighbouring  spring,  drank 
from  an  extemporised  paper  cup,  or  from  the  palm  of 
the  hand ; and  then  the  smokers  drew  forth  pipe  and 
cigar,  and  puffed  away  vigorously  for  a brief  space  with 
great  apparent  delight  (the  writer,  not  being  a smoker, 
cannot  conscientiously  aver  from  experience  that  the 
pleasure  was  real !)  and  then  the  party  separated  once 
more  for  the  afternoon’s  work.  In  an  hour  or  so  the 
wind  arose  boisterous  and  cold  ; coat  collars  were  turned 
up,  mufflers  were  tied  about  the  neck  ; whilst  poor  Cox, 
who  was  seated  in  a rather  exposed  spot,  was  compelled 
to  envelope  his  head  in  a large  shawl,  and,  at  a little  dis- 
tance, looked  very  much  like  an  old  Welshwoman 
busied  over  some  mysterious  operation  by  the  river-side. 
Nevertheless,  the  day,  on  the  whole,  was  a very  enjoy- 
able one ; and  by  the  time  the  car  arrived  on  the  scene 
to  fetch  the  party  back  to  dinner,  Pont-y-garth,  with 
the  distant  blue  peaks  of  Snowdon  behind  it,  the  Grlyder 
mountain  on  the  right,  the  brawling  stream  tumbling 
among  the  boulders  and  grey  stones  in  front,  and  other 
features  of  the  romantic  landscape,  had  been  jotted 


A “ CONVENIENT  BOX.” 


103 


down  in  note-book  or  secured  on  canvas,  according  to  the 
ability  of  each.  One  or  two  of  these  efforts  might  not, 
perhaps,  have  been  very  much  to  boast  of,  but  the 
pleasure  of  the  attempt  to  produce  a representation  of 
the  charming  scene  was  great,  and  the  day’s  delights 
were  such  as  not  readily  to  be  effaced  from  memory. 

One  of  Cox’s  sketching  companions  on  some  of  these 
occasions  carried  with  him  a box,  constructed  to  hold 
every  conceivable  article  requisite  in  painting  from 
nature  : canvases,  colours,  brushes,  oils,  varnishes,  turpen- 
tine, and  many  things  besides,  in  separate  compartments, 
not  forgetting  a special  division  to  receive  his  pipe — 
for  he  loved  to  take  a few  whiffs  now  and  then,  when 
resting  from  his  labours,  as  did  his  friend  Cox  from  a 
half  cigar.  This  elaborate  and  comprehensive  con- 
trivance, planned  by  himself,  he  christened  his  “ Con- 
venient Box  and  he  was  usually  occupied  for  at  least 
half  an  hour  before  starting  out  to  work  in  packing  its 
contents,  and  in  ascertaining  that  everything  he  should 
be  likely  to  want  was  in  its  place.  “ Come  along  with 
you,  friend  Coleman!”  Cox  would  cry  out  impatiently, 
marching  to  and  fro  before  the  house,  quite  ready  him- 
self. “ What  a long  time  you  are  keeping  us  waiting, 
packing  that  ‘ Convenient  Box  ’ of  yours ! Half  the 
day  will  be  gone  before  we  start.”  Turning  to  another 
friend  about  to  accompany  him,  and  also  waiting  with 
him  in  the  road,  he  said,  “ I should  not  be  surprised  if 
he  were  to  forget  something  essential,  after  all  his 
trouble — very  likely  his  pipe.  I ’ll  put  one  in  my 
pocket  for  him,  at  a venture.”  At  length  and  at  last 


104 


DAVID  COX. 


the  “ Convenient  Box  ” was  packed,  and  the  little  party 
got  away,  having  to  go  a distance  of  two  or  three  miles, 
so  that  it  was  late  ere  they  sat  down  to  their  tasks,  on 
the  particular  occasion  alluded  to,  by  the  side  of  the 
river  Conway,  in  a romantic  part  of  the  ravine  not  far 
from  the  Fairy  Glen.  After  they  had  been  painting 
some  time,  and  were  beginning  to  feel  a little  weary, 
Cox  arose  from  his  seat,  and  shouted  to  his  companion, 
at  work  fifty  yards  or  so  higher  up  the  river,  “ Friend 
Coleman,  what  say  you  to  a pipe ? I’m  going  to  smoke 
a half  cigar/’  “ With  all  my  heart,  Mr.  Cox,”  the  other 
replied,  and  commenced  hunting  his  box  over  for  the 
pipe,  which  was  nowhere  to  be  found;  Cox  watching 
him  all  the  time,  amused  at  his  look  of  surprise  and 
vexation.  “ What  is  the  matter  now,  friend  Coleman  ? ” 
“ By  George  ! Mr.  Cox,  I ’ve  come  without  my  pipe. 
I can  have  no  smoke  at  all.”  “ Poor  fellow ! 9\  Cox 
exclaimed,  “I’m  so  sorry  for  you.  I ’m  certain  that 
* Convenient  Box’  will  be  the  ruin  of  you  some  day.” 
Fumbling  in  his  pocket,  he  held  aloft  the  short  pipe  he 
had  brought  from  the  “ Oak,”  and  said,  “ Look  at  this, 
Coleman.  I am  like  a father  to  you,  and  I hope  you 
will  think  so.”  “ By  George ! Mr.  Cox,  that  is  very 
kind  of  you  indeed.  What  should  I have  done  without 
a pipe  ? ” 

And  so  the  day  wore  on,  with  turns  of  work  at  their 
pictures,  and  brief  snatches  of  rest,  when  pipe  and 
cigar  were  called  into  requisition,  and  conversation, 
with  now  and  then  a harmless  practical  joke,  filled  up 
the  interval,  until  their  vehicle  appeared  in  sight  to 


HIS  QUICKNESS  AND  INDUSTRY. 


105 


convey  them  back  to  Bettws.  Then  all  was  hurry- 
scurry  to  pack  up  their  “ traps.”  Cox,  whether  he  had 
finished  his  picture  or  not,  would  never  he  behind  the 
proper  dinner-hour  if  he  could  avoid  it,  and  began  to 
pack  up  the  instant  the  carriage  arrived.  One  or  two 
of  the  party  would  probably  have  been  thankful  for  an 
extra  half-hour  to  complete  what  they  had  begun ; but 
“No ; it  is  time  to  go  home,”  in  decisive  tones  reached 
their  ears  from  their  inexorable  chief ; and  so  they  were 
hurried  away  with  their  work  unfinished.  If  in  good 
health  and  spirits,  David  Cox  worked  rapidly,  whether 
in  oil  or  water-colour ; and  a few  hours’  painting  made 
a great  show  towards  a completed  picture ; whilst  others 
— inexperienced,  unpractised  hands,  perhaps — had  done 
but  little  in  the  time,  and  that  little  far  from  well,  when 
their  more  skilful  friend  had  almost  finished  his  work,  for 
he  seized  on  the  leading  features  and  salient  points  of  his 
subject  with  ready  grasp,  and  a few  rapid  strokes  with  a 
full  pencil  fixed  them  on  the  canvas  with  telling  effect. 
However,  they  all  were  happy  in  having  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  the  master  at  work,  and  of  beholding 
the  result  of  his  marvellous  ability  and  his  deep  know- 
ledge of  Nature. 

David  Cox  made  the  most  of  his  time  when  on 
these  sketching  trips ; and,  in  fact,  during  the  whole  of 
his  stay  at  Bettws-y-coed.  He  was  an  early  riser,  and 
usually  trotted  off  before  breakfast,  sketch-book  in 
hand,  to  make  a few  “ outlines,”  or  do  a “ bit,”  to  put 
by  for  future  use.  He  would  sometimes  return  from 
his  early  labours  before  his  friends  had  come  down  from 


106 


DAVID  COX. 


their  bedrooms,  and  would  lash  their  windows  with  an 
angle-rod  that  frequently  stood  outside,  shouting,  “ You 
lazy  fellows  ! when  are  we  to  have  breakfast  ? All  the 
beauty  of  the  day  will  be  gone  before  we  can  get  out. 
I have  been  down  by  the  river,  and  have  made  three  or 
four  ‘ outlines/  whilst  you  have  been  snoring  in  bed  ! ” 
In  fact,  he  was  always  at  work,  or  walking  about, 
noting  down  “effects”  and  getting  “bits,”  when  not 
out  for  serious  painting.  By  this  continual  industry 
he  filled  his  portfolios  with  hundreds  of  sketches  and 
studies ; and  thus  his  delightful  works,  fortunately  for 
his  admirers,  are  as  “ the  sands  of  the  sea-shore.”  For 
many  years  we  have  seen  them  on  the  walls  of  our 
exhibition-rooms,  and  they  have  become  familiar  to  us 
as  “household  words.”  They  have  found  their  way 
into  numberless  homes,  made  bright  by  their  presence? 
to  keep  alive,  in  minds  contending  with  the  cares  of  life, 
and  engrossed  with  the  pursuits  of  every-day  existence, 
a love  of  the  beautiful  in  nature. 

When  the  weather  was  fine,  Cox  of  course  was  to  be 
found  out-of-doors,  hard  at  work  in  the  fields,  by  the 
river-side,  on  the  hill-tops,  or  among  the  fallen  rocks  at 
the  foot  of  some  lofty  mountain  range  looking  down  on 
the  Lledr  valley,  or  casting  its  broad  shadows  across 
Llyn  Idwal  and  the  wild  Pass  of  Nant  Francon.  But 
when  rain  had  fallen  for  some  days,  and  the  roads  had 
become  almost  impassable,  and  few  could  dare  to  sit 
out-of-doors,  even  for  an  hour,  Cox  was  by  no  means 
idle,  and  found  subjects  and  something  to  be  done  in 
the  neighbouring  stables  and  cow- sheds,  and  the  cottage 


“INTERIORS”  AT  BETTWS. 


107 


interiors  in  tlie  vicinity  of  the  “ Oak.”  Many  charming 
works  of  this  kind  have  emanated  from  his  pencil,  when 
wet  or  unsettled  weather  has  compelled  him  to  seek  for 
subjects  under  shelter  from  the  showers. 

It  has  been  amusing  to  note  what  curious  and  some- 
times ludicrous  subjects  were  taken  up  by  artists,  rather 
than  remain  unoccupied.  The  inn  was  examined  from 
top  to  bottom,  and  if  any  part  of  it  was  discovered  to  be 
at  all  picturesque,  some  one  of  the  brotherhood  would 
soon  set  to  work  to  make  a picture  from  it.  The 
servants’ bedroom  in  the  roof  was  found  to  he  a “capital 
subject ; ” with  its  rickety  old  bedstead ; its  patchwork 
quilt  of  many  colours  spread  over  the  humble  pallet ; 
the  roof  with  massive  beams  and  rafters  sloping  to 
one  side,  so  as  to  almost  touch  the  floor ; its  tiny 
window,  admitting  but  a feeble  ray  of  light  (hardly 
sufficient  to  enable  the  artist  to  mix  his  tints)  the 
greater  portion  of  the  chamber  being  shrouded  in 
gloom ; odds  and  ends  of  furniture — a broken  chair — a 
clothes-box — a small  worm-eaten  table — a fragment  of 
looking-glass  stuck  on  the  window-sill — a pair  of  cobbled 
shoes  on  the  floor — several  articles  of  dress  lying  about  t 
— all  combined  to  make  an  “ admirable  interior,”  which 
was  depicted  again  and  again.  The  scullery  at  the 
“ Swan,”  a dark  hole,  with  just  a few  pots  and  pans 
dimly  visible  through  the  gloom,  and  some  lumps  of  coal 
stowed  in  one  corner,  was  held  to  be  a fine  “ Rembrandtish 
subject ; ” and  if  an  old  woman  could  be  induced  to  sit 
in  front,  peeling  turnips,  or  scouring  a frying-pan,  the 
picture  was  “ a perfect  Dutchman.”  Wet  weather 


108 


DAVID  COX. 


compelled  many  an  artist  to  set  up  his  easel  before  that 
subject  (Cox  among  the  number)  greatly  to  the  annoyance 
of  the  good  people  of  the  house,  who  wanted  to 
be  going  about  their  work ; but  the  artists  at  that 
time  did  pretty  much  as  they  pleased.  They  were 
customers  whom  it  would  not  have  been  wise  to  offend. 
Tourists  were  not  so  numerous  then  as  at  the  present 
day;  and  inn-keepers  were  not  so  independent  as  they  are 
sometimes  now.  Cottage  interiors — of  which  there  were 
several  within  easy  reach,  and  extremely  good  subjects, 
- — were  of  course  the  chief  places  of  resort  on  wet  days, 
and  Cox  made  some  admirable  studies  from  the  more 
picturesque  of  them.  On  one  occasion  he  even  painted 
a picture  in  oil  of  the  interior  of  a cow-shed,  with  a 
couple  of  cows  standing  in  the  stalls,  and  a man  lying 
asleep  on  the  straw  in  a corner.  Although  not  a very 
interesting  subject,  the  colour  was  fine,  and  the  work 
effective.  The  old  church  itself,  at  a distance  of  some 
few  hundred  yards  from  the  “ Oak,”  and  soon  reached, 
without  much  fear  of  a wetting,  was  often  utilised  for 
painting  purposes  when  the  weather  was  especially  bad ; 
and  artists  might  be  seen  at  work  inside,  making 
pictures  of  the  pulpit  and  the  pews ; or  seated  near  the 
open  door- way,  painting  the  view  outside — the  venerable 
yews,  and  the  old  grey  tombstones  beneath  them,  and  a 
glimpse  of  some  far-off  blue  hill  beheld  through  the 
sombre  branches,  and  perhaps  just  an  indication  of  the 
river  Conway  gliding  along  under  the  churchyard  wall, 
(if  it  could  not  be  seen  from  their  station,  it  could 
undoubtedly  be  heard  by  an  attentive  ear)  ; these 


TEE  “ DRY  ARCH”  AT  PONT-Y-PANT. 


109 


interesting  features  combined  to  make  up  a subject  of  a 
very  pleasing  character,  which  was  frequently  painted ; 
and  when,  in  addition,  the  open  church  door,  with  the 
grave-tools  — mattock,  shovel,  besom,  and  the  rest  — 
stowed  away  in  a corner  behind,  but  not  concealed ; 
and  the  three  or  four  time-worn  steps  leading  down  into 
the  church — hollowed  by  the  tread  of  many  generations 
of  worshippers  — were  introduced  into  the  picture,  a 
touch  of  sentiment  of  a more  serious  kind  was  imported 
which  lent  to  the  subject  a greater  charm.  Even  the 
“ dry  99  arch  of  Bettws  bridge — the  well-known  Pont-y- 
pair,  that  crosses  the  river  Llugwy  near  the  turnpike 
house  (the  one  arch  through  which  the  water  does  not 
run,  except  at  a time  of  unusually  high  flood) — even  this 
arch  had  sometimes  several  artists  sitting  inside  it, 
busily  occupied  in  depicting  what  could  be  seen  from 
that  contracted  space,  although  the  rain  might  be  de- 
scending in  heavy  showers,  and  a haze  of  mist  and  spray 
from  the  roaring  torrent  enveloped  them  and  their 
pictures,  and  they  sat  shivering  with  cold  in  the  draught 
of  damp  air  that  rushed  through  their  uncomfortable 
place  of  shelter.  Many  a severe  illness  has  been  caught 
in  that  “ dry  arch  ” during  the  wet  weather ! and  many 
an  indifferent  picture  has  been  the  result  of  working 
there  under  such  unfavourable  conditions  ! 

During  the  summer  of  1850,  the  author,  with  David 
Cox  and  other  friends,  was  staying,  as  usual,  at  the 
“ Eoyal  Oak,”  for  a little  sketching.  The  weather  for 
about  a fortnight  of  the  time  was  exceedingly  bad ; in 
fact,  so  wet  that  the  little  party  could  hardly  leave  the 


110 


DAVID  COX . 


house,  even  for  a stroll.  As  for  sketching  from  nature, 
that  was  quite  out  of  the  question.  Cottage  interiors, 
cow-sheds,  stables,  servants’  bedrooms,  had  been  used 
up.  All  in  the  little  parlour  were  as  wretched  as  could 
he.  The  author  amused  himself  by  writing  some  lines 
in  the  visitors’  book,  intended  to  be  descriptive  of  the 
miserable  state  of  things  at  home  and  abroad  during 
that  trying  season,  and  is  tempted  to  insert  them  here, 
because  he  thinks  there  is  some  little  novelty  in  the 
theme,  and  also  because  they  will  afford  an  idea  of  the 
trying  circumstances  under  which  David  Cox  (as  well  as 
many  others  of  his  brethren)  was  occasionally  called  on 
for  patience  to  endure  the  painful  suspension  from  the 
work  he  loved.  The  lines — somewhat  amended,  per- 
haps— are  as  follows,  and  are  ironically  entitled — 
SKETCHING-WEATHER  AT  BETTWS-Y-COED, 

AUGUST,  1850. 

See  ! from  tlie  window  artist  eyes 
Oft  scan  tlie  unrelenting  skies  ; 

Or  with  fixed  vision  long  time  stare 
Abstractedly  on  empty  air. 

A crowd  of  faces  oft  appears, 

Seen  through  the  window’s  rainy  tears, 

That  look  distressed,  retire  in  pain. 

But,  restless,  soon  gaze  forth  again. 

For  two  long  weeks  there  scarce  has  been 
A day  that  we  could  call  serene ; 

Be-drenching  rain  and  threatening  skies 
Have  filled  us  with  anxieties. 

No  sign  of  change  ! the  steady  wind 
Still  blowing  from  sou’-west  we  find. 

Above  yon  hill  dense  vapours  rise 
To  endless  shades  and  quantities, 

Spread  their  black  wings  across  the  sky, 

Then  drop,  in  water,  constantly. 

Amid  the  dark  no  speck  of  blue 


A WET  DAY  AT  BETTWS. 


Ill 


Gives  hope  of  sunshine  breaking  through, 

All  is  a compact,  spongy  gloom, 

As  though  no  change  would  ever  come. 

The  rain  descends  in  torrent  floods, 

Streams  from  the  mountains,  soaks  the  woods. 
Like  race-horse  goes  the  river  by, 

Tearing  along  impetuously. 

The  road  is  miry,  wet  the  grass — 

So  wet,  no  foot  dare  through  it  pass. 

The  lanes  are  brooks,  well  fed  by  rills 
That  flow  in  myriads  from  the  hills  ; 

The  brooks  are  roaring  floods,  that  flee 
All  froth  and  fury  to  the  sea. 

Trees  bend  ’neath  every  gust  that  blows, 

And  shake  their  hosts  of  dripping  boughs  ; 

The  rustling  leaves,  the  rain  and  wind, 

With  din  of  waterfalls  combined, 

Fill  the  damp  air  with  mournful  sound, 

That  saddens  every  heart  around. 

No  living  thing  is  seen  abroad, 

Within  the  fields  or  on  the  road ; 

The  very  dogs  are  scared  away, 

And  pigs  keep  shelter  through  the  day. 

Within  the  house,  in  every  eye 
There  glooms  a blank  despondency. 

D.  Cox  upon  the  sofa  lies, 

And  oft  gives  vent  to  doleful  sighs ; 

Poor  Brown  looks  blue  ; and  Bradley ’s  sad ; 
And  as  to  Coleman — -he ’s  nigh  mad  ; 

To  work,  or  walk,  he  can’t  get  out. 

But  round  the  parlour  glides  about : 

He  sits,  he  stands,  he  moans  by  fits, 

Then  lights  his  pipe,  and  smokes,  and  sits  ; 

Goes  to  the  window,  gazes  forth, 

Views  nought  but  gloom  from  south  to  north, 
Then  shudd’ring,  seeks  his  chair  once  more, 

And  drops  asleep — perchance  to  snore. 

Boused  from  his  slumbers,  round  he  looks, 

Sees  the  black  sky  and  brimming  brooks, 

“ No  change  ! ” he  cries,  “ things  do  look  grave  ! 
By  George  ! another  pipe  I ’ll  have.” 

’Tis  sad  to  see  us  all  together  ! 

And  sad  to  have  such  wretched  weather 


112 


DAVID  COX. 


When  morning  with  delusive  smile 
Breaks  o’er  the  hills — hut  to  beguile — 

Flinging  a watery  gleam  athwart 
The  murky  sadness  of  the  heart, 

We  venture  out,  and  take  our  stand 
To  limn  the  charms  of  this  fair  land. 

Our  easel  planted,  forth  we  drag 
The  palette  and  the  palette -rag, 

Canvas  and  colours,  brushes,  stool, 

And  every  other  painting-tool. 

Awhile  we  strive  to  match  the  sky 
In  all  its  watery  brilliancy, 

When  rise  the  winds  ; the  air  grows  chill ; 

The  clouds  hang  low  upon  the  hill ; 

Dark  vapours  congregate  on  high  ; 

The  Sun,  he  blinks,  then  bids  good-bye. 

Drop,  drop— the  rain  begins  to  fall  ; 

Th’  umbrella  bends  beneath  the  squall ; 

And  down  go  easel,  sketch,  and  all ! 

Bills  pour  from  the  umbrella-tips, 

And  soak  us  well  about  the  hips ; 

Our  pockets  fill ; our  brushes  swim  ; 

Our  colour-box  is  full  to  brim. 

Down  our  wet  pictures  run  big  tears, 

That  cause  us  many  anxious  fears ; 

While  dirt  and  flies  and  leaves  of  trees 
Stick  to  the  paint  in  quantities. 

Y ainly  we  work,  in  surly  wrath, 

Our  “ medium  ” just  like  greasy  broth  ; 

Be-drench’d  by  the  descending  flood, 

And  midges  sucking  at  our  blood, 

W e ’re  fairly  beaten ; wind  and  rain 
Back  drive  us  to  our  inn  again. 

The  artist’s  gains,  oh,  envy  not ! 

Nor  let  his  trials  be  forgot  ! 

He  ’ll  scrape  but  little  pelf  together, 

While  lasts  this  melancholy  weather  ! 

It  has  been  said,  in  a previous  chapter,  that  Cox, 
when  out  on  one  of  his  customary  sketching- excursions, 
generally  dressed  in  a grey  suit  of  checked  tweed — 
plain,  “ roomy/’  and  comfortable  ; he  likewise  wore  a 


HIS  FAVOURITE  SUPPER. 


113 


cap  of  the  same  colour  and  material.  His  appearance 
sometimes  led  travellers  who  were  passing  the  inn  to 
mistake  him  for  the  landlord.  On  one  occasion  a horse- 
man who  was  riding  through  Bettws,  pulled  up  at  the 
door  of  the  “ Oak/’  before  which  Cox  was  standing,  and 
said  to  him  “ Landlord,  give  my  horse  a feed  of  corn.” 
Cox  was  in  person  a fair- sized  man,  with  ruddy  com- 
plexion, and  usually  looked  healthy  and  strong.  There 
was  a resident  at  the  “ Oak,”  of  the  name  of  Hoyle,  a 
large  man,  and  fat  withal.  These  two  were  one  day 
chatting  at  the  inn  door,  when  a vehicle  with  a couple 
of  travellers  passed.  Cox  overheard  one  say  to  the 
other,  “ Those  two  old  chaps  do  credit  to  that  house  ! ” 
David  Cox  had  no  particular  affection  for  what  is 
called  “ good  living,”  hut  loved  simple  diet,  and  was 
extremely  fond  of  boiled  milk  for  supper.  When  at 
Bettws  he  generally  supped  on  what  the  Welsh  term 
“ crowdie  ” (orthography  doubtful),  that  is,  milk 
thickened  with  oatmeal.  Occasionally  his  friends  joined 
him  in  this  simple  repast.  When  the  time  for  the  meal 
arrived,  Cox  would  ring  the  bell  (a  small  table  bell,  by- 
the-bye — there  was  no  other  then),  and  on  Miss  Mary 
Boberts  entering  the  room  he  would  exclaim,  “ Who 
joins  me  ? I am  going  to  have  crowdie  for  supper. 
Will  you  ? and  you  ? and  you  ? ” half-a-dozen  times 
repeated,  if  there  were  so  many  persons  present.  “ Very 
good  ! crowdie  for  six,  then,  Miss  Mary,  if  you  please.” 
Miss  Mary  would  laugh  and  vanish.  His  fondness  for 
milk  clung  to  him  to  the  last.  A few  years  before  his 
death,  on  the  occasion  of  the  presentation  of  his 
i 


114 


DAVID  COX. 


portrait,  when  a large  number  of  admiring  friends  had 
assembled  round  the  hospitable  table  of  his  old  acquaint- 
ance Mr.  Charles  Birch,  to  do  him  honour,  so  soon  as 
the  ceremony  was  over,  and  his  health  had  been 
drunk,  after  dinner,  feeling  much  wearied  and  overcome 
— for  he  was  then  in  broken  health,  and  extremely  feeble 
— he  said  to  his  old  friend  Mr.  C.  W.  RadclyfFe,  who  was 
sitting  near  him,  “ Take  me  home,  will  you,  Charles  ? 
I think  it  is  time  for  me  to  have  my  milk.” 

David  Cox,  during  the  author’s  acquaintance  with 
him,  was  a regular  attendant  at  divine  service  on  Sun- 
day, whether  at  home  or  abroad.  When  at  Bettws 
(unless  prevented  by  indisposition,  or  exceedingly  tem- 
pestuous weather,  he  always  went  to  church.  More- 
over, he  liked  to  pay  respect,  and  to  see  a proper  respect 
paid,  to  all  religious  observances,  and  to  things  of  a 
sacred  and  religious  character.  Once,  when  he  was 
staying  at  Bettws — the  writer  was  also  there  at  the 
time — there  were  several  gay,  rattling,  care-for-nothing 
young  artists  in  the  place — one  of  them  a painter  in 
water-colours  of  some  reputation — who  amused  them- 
selves by  drawing  on  the  whitewashed  walls  of  the 
church  porch  and  lych  gateway,  caricatures  of  the  parson 
and  clerk,  with  other  humorous  subjects.  The  parson 
was  represented  in  the  pulpit,  preaching,  and  hanging 
the  cushion  with  his  fist,  while  the  old  clerk,  with  two 
or  three  of  the  congregation  near  his  desk,  were  fast 
asleep  and  apparently  snoring.  This  caricature  was 
cleverly  executed  in  water-colours,  and  attracted  much 
attention  from  the  village  folks  when  they  went  to 


A FOOLISH  FROLIC  REBUKED. 


115 


church  on  the  following  Sunday,  some  of  whom  shook 
their  heads,  and  thought  it  was  a very  wicked  thing 
for  any  one  to  have  done  in  that  place.  Cox,  when  he 
came  out  from  service,  took  notice  of  these  caricatures, 
and  was  greatly  disgusted.  He  determined  to  ob- 
literate them  without  delay.  “ My  goodness  ! 99  he  said 
to  a friend,  “ what  will  these  poor  people  think  of  us, 
who  are  supposed  to  he  men  of  education,  and  to  know 
what  is  right  and  proper  P How  much  it  must  shock 
them  to  see  sacred  persons  and  things  ridiculed  and 
made  fun  of  ! And  this  done  upon  the  wall  of  the 
church  itself,  and  done,  too,  by  one  of  us,  who  ought 
to  have  set  a better  example  ! ” As  soon  as  night  came 
on,  he  said  to  one  or  two  friends  at  the  “ Oak,”  “ Who 
will  go  with  me  to  the  churchyard,  and  carry  some 
water  and  a brush  ? 99  A volunteer  was  soon  forth- 
coming, and  the  pair  sallied  forth,  Cox  carrying  a stable 
lanthorn,  and  his  companion  a pail  of  water.  Within 
half  an  hour  they  returned,  Cox  evidently  well  pleased 
at  what  he  had  done.  “ There  is  not  a vestige  of  the 
vile  things  left,”  said  he.  “If  anybody  should  ask 
who  rubbed  them  out,  tell  him  I did ! 99 

So  long  as  David  Cox  was  able  to  take  a journey 
so  far  from  home — in  fact,  up  to  within  the  last  three 
years  of  his  life — he  failed  not  to  pay  his  annual  visit 
to  his  favourite  Bettws.  During  his  final  visits  he 
seldom  ventured  far  from  the  “ Oak  ” to  sketch,  con- 
tenting himself  with  getting  “ bits,”  and  making  slight 
drawings  in  the  vicinity  of  the  inn.  Almost  any  day 
he  might  have  been  observed  toddling  in  and  out  of 

i 2 


116 


DAVID  COX. 


the  house,  or  with  a sketch-book  under  his  arm,  accom- 
panied by  a friend  or  regular  attendant,  jogging  down 
to  the  old  churchyard,  to  the  side  of  the  river,  or  to 
the  “ big  meadow  ” (a  large  field  at  no  great  distance 
from  the  “ Oak  ”),  in  which  he  had  often  loved  to 
paint,  as  it  was  little  frequented  by  visitors,  and  com- 
manded fine  views  of  the  surrounding  hills ; and  there 
for  a few  hours  he  would  sit,  making  “ outlines,” 
colouring  a “ bit  ” that  pleased  him,  or  perhaps 
watching  for  fine  sky  effects,  which  he  would  dash 
upon  his  ready  canvas  with  the  facility  of  lifelong 
practice.  After  working  for  a short  time  in  this 
manner,  he  would  pack  up  his  painting  materials,  put 
his  sketch  in  the  box,  and  go  quietly  back  to  the 
“ Oak/’  or  to  the  old  farmhouse  close  by,  where  he 
latterly  lodged,  to  his  dinner  in  the  middle  of  the  day, 
for  failing  health  and  increasing  weakness  would  not 
permit  of  his  waiting  for  his  principal  meal,  as  he  had 
been  wont  to  do,  till  the  close  of  the  day,  when  work 
was  over.  The  remainder  of  the  day  was  spent  in 
sauntering  about  at  the  front  of  the  inn,  chatting  with 
old  friends,  watching  the  beautiful  Llugwy  as  it  glided 
gently  along  on  the  other  side  of  the  road,  or  smoking 
his  cigar,  seated  at  the  open  window  of  the  pleasant 
little  sitting-room.  At  length  the  time  arrived  when 
he  could  travel  no  longer,  the  favourite  spot  could  be 
visited  no  more,  but  he  would  sit  in  his  easy-chair  by 
the  fireside  of  his  house  at  Harborne,  recalling  its 
delightful  scenes  to  memory,  and  dwelling  on  the  pleasant 
incidents  which  gave  them,  for  him,  a peculiar  charm. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


"Work  done  at  Home — Cox’s  Industry  and  Self-reliance — Range  of  Subjects — • 
Characteristics  of  His  Works — His  Three  Distinctive  Styles. 

On  his  return  home  from  these  annual  visits  to  Bettws- 
y-coed,  during  a period  ranging  from  the  year  1844  to 
1854,  or  nearly  so,  Cox,  being  then  at  his  best,  painted 
a large  number  of  his  finest  and  most  important  works 
in  water-colour,  and  likewise  in  the  more  enduring 
vehicle  of  oil.  Feeling  refreshed  and  invigorated  after 
every  trip,  and  having  derived  a new  stock  of  ideas  from 
recent  experiences,  and  a keener  insight  into  beautiful 
Nature,  he  went  to  his  easel  in  the  quiet  painting- 
room  of  Harborne,  with  a determination  to  do  better 
things  than  he  had  ever  done  before.  He  worked  with 
remarkable  zeal  and  energy,  and  surprised  his  friends 
with  a succession  of  charming  works  of  greater  excel- 
lence than  any  previously  seen  from  his  pencil.  Not 
only  were  his  water-colour  drawings  more  masterly  and 
of  finer  quality  than  before,  but  his  pictures  in  oil 
exhibited  a great  advance  in  the  management  of 
material,  and  in  the  freedom  with  which  he  brought  out 
his  ideas  and  effects  ; the  result  being  the  production  of 
many  pictures,  large  and  small,  of  surpassing  merit. 
The  art  collections  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Birmingham 
contained  at  his  death  a number  of  his  works  in  oil,  of 
great  beauty  and  excellence ; his  prices  being  so  low, 


118 


DAVID  COX. 


comparatively,  his  friends  purchased  with  great  avidity, 
often  writing  their  names  on  the  hacks  of  blank  can- 
vasses, to  secure  for  themselves  whatever  pictures  might 
he  painted  upon  them.  Numbers  of  these  beautiful 
productions  have,  by  the  death  of  their  owners,  been 
dispersed  to  all  parts  of  the  country,  selling  for  sums 
that  would  have  astonished  the  artist  could  he  have 
been  privileged  to  look  only  for  a few  short  years  into 
the  future  time,  and  earning  for  him  fame  that  he 
would  have  prized  far  more  dearly  than  wealth. 

Among  the  more  important  of  his  oil  pictures 
painted  during  the  period  referred  to  may  he  mentioned 
his  large  and  grand  works,  “Views  of  the  Vale  of 
Clwyd/5  the  second,  and  best,  painted  for  Mr.  George 
Briscoe  of  Wolverhampton.  Cox  received  less  than 
£100  for  this  fine  work,  which  after  his  death  sold 
for  £2,500.  Another  picture  of  the  same  size — 
4 feet  8 inches  by  3 feet  3 inches — entitled,  “ Collect- 
ing the  Flocks/’  painted  for  Mr.  Edwin  Bullock  of 
Handsworth,  was  likewise  produced  during  this  period. 
This  picture,  although  inferior  to  the  two  others  of  this 
size  (Cox  painted  only  three  of  these  dimensions),  has 
also  been  sold  for  a considerable  sum.  It  may  he 
mentioned  in  this  place  that  the  artist  once  received 
from  his  friend  Mr.  Birch  a commission  to  paint  a pair 
of  large  pictures  to  he  hung  in  the  gallery  at  Metchley 
Abbey,  on  either  side  of  his  fine  and  famous  picture  of 
“ The  Lock,”  by  John  Constable,  B.A.  Cox  was  to 
put  forth  all  his  strength  to  rival  that  great  work. 
The  subjects  selected  were  views  in  the  Gilen  of  “ Foss 


THE  FAIRY  GLEN  NEAR  BETTWS. 


119 


Noddyn,’’  at  Bettws-y-coed,  well  known  to  tourists  at 
the  present  day  by  its  fanciful  name,  the  “ Fairy  Glen.” 
The  descent  to  the  bottom  of  the  glen  at  that  time  was 
not,  as  now,  by  a series  of  easy  steps  cut  in  the  rock, 
but  was  very  precipitous  and  slippery,  and  to  an  elderly 
person,  somewhat  nervous  and  not  very  firm  on  his  feet, 
was  not  free  from  danger.  Cox,  to  make  himself  safe, 
procured  a strong  rope,  which  was  fastened  to  his 
body,  and  he  was  thereby  let  down  gently  to  the 
bottom  of  the  glen  in  a sitting  position.  He  most 
probably  did  not  relish  this  rather  dangerous  mode 
of  descending  the  side  of  the  ravine,  as  he  never 
could  be  induced  to  venture  a second  time  to  the 
bottom  of  the  Fairy  Glen  to  paint,  and  never  put  more 
than  the  first  day’s  work  upon  his  large  canvases. 
The  pair  of  great  competition  pictures  were  never 
painted,  and  Constable’s  “ Lock  ” maintained  its  regal 
supremacy.*  A number  of  “Hayfield”  subjects,  of 


* Mr.  Thos.  Creswick,  R.A.,  painted  an  excellent  picture  of  the  “ Fairy- 
Glen  ” at  Bettws-y-coed  (purchased,  if  the  writer  mistakes  not,  by  Vice- 
Chancellor  Wigram,  from  the  Royal  Academy  exhibition),  which  sent 
many  a tourist  and  many  an  artist  to  the  bed  of  the  river  Conway,  to  find 
the  spot  from  which  the  view  was  taken.  Scores  of  pictures  of  varying 
excellence  have  since  that  time  been  painted  of  the  glen,  from  “ the  very 
stone  ” — so  says  local  gossip — on  which  the  popular  artist  sat ; but  not  in 
all  cases  productive  of  similar  eclat  to  their  authors ! Thousands  of 
photographs  have  made  known  to  the  world,  since  Creswick’s  attempt, 
the  striking  features  of  the  glen  ; and  the  way  to  it  has  been  made  plain 
and  unmistakable  by  the  tread  of  tourists’  feet.  There  is  now  a house 
close  by  for  the  sale  of  refreshments  (probably  a lodging-house  or  an  inn  will 
be  erected  there  before  long) ; an  easy  path  to  the  bottom  of  the  ravine  has 
been  made,  so  that  a child  may  descend  with  safety ; a gate  has  been  fixed 
at  top  to  prevent  any  one  viewing  the  glen  without  first  paying  a fee  ; 
and  an  attendant  sits  daily  at  a stall  to  sell  photographic  pictures  of  the 


120 


DAVID  COX. 


various  sizes,  and  various  in  treatment,  most  of  them  of 
the  finest  quality,  were  the  work  of  the  time  specified ; 
notably  that  painted  for  Mr.  Butler,  afterwards  Mr.  S. 
Mayou’s  property;  and  the  admirable  one  painted  for 
Mr.  T.  Darby  (on  the  wrong  side  of  the  canvas,  by-the- 
bye),  and  now  possessed  by  Mr.  T.  Page  of  Great  Barr, 
near  Birmingham.  This  latter  by  many  good  judges 
has  been  considered  Cox’s  best  picture  of  the  “ Hay- 
field  ” series.  Besides  these,  there  were  “ Going  to  the 
Mill,”  a fine  upright  picture  (enlarged  by  an  addition  to 
the  sky),  sold  with  the  Gillott  collection ; two  or  three 
pictures  of  the  “ Welsh  Funeral ; ” “ Bettws  Old  Mill,” 
with  a hoy  frightening  the  geese ; one  fine  work,  called 
the  “ Skylark ; ” another,  “ Changing  the  Pasture,”  one 
of  the  artist’s  loveliest  productions ; two  of  the  “ Skirts 
of  a Forest ; ” “ Caer  Cennen  Castle,”  a grand  upright 
picture,  sold  for  2,000  guineas  by  the  proprietor; 
“ Counting  the  Flock,”  an  evening  effect,  once  in  the 
collection  of  Mr.  S.  Mayou ; another  picture,  with  the 

far-famed  scene  ! The  Fairy  G-len  has  indeed  become  a regular  show- 
place,  and  one  of  the  chief  attractions  of  Bettws  ; every  excursionist  who 
visits  the  place  considering  himself  in  duty  bound  to  go  and  look  at  the 
glen ; crowds  of  tourists  during  the  “ season  ” haunt  the  spot ; picnic 
parties  may  any  day  be  seen,  seated  on  the  stones  in  the  river-bed  or 
under  the  over-hanging  trees,  regaling  themselves  on  sandwiches  and 
bottled  beer ; orange-peel  and  waste  paper  lie  about  in  every  direction ; a 
discordant  noise  of  shouting  and  laughter  arises  from  the  very  depths  of 
the  once  silent  ravine ; and  the  charm  of  the  olden  time — when  the  glen 
was  known  to  but  few,  and  its  deep  silence  was  broken  only  by  the  sounds 
of  rushing  waters,  or  footstep  of  some  solitary  artist  descending  to  his 
work — is  for  ever  gone  ! The  author  has  been  informed  that  latterly, 
during  the  summer  season,  the  number  of  excursionists  visiting  the 
“ Fairy  Glen”  has  been  so  great,  that  it  has  actually  been  found  neces- 
sary to  station  a policeman  at  the  spot,  to  maintain  order  ! 


SOME  FAMOUS  DRAWINGS. 


121 


same  title,  but  a Welsh  mountain  scene,  sold  with  Mr. 
Frederick  Welch’s  pictures,  after  that  gentleman’s 
death  at  Moseley,  near  Birmingham.  These  admirable 
works,  besides  many  of  a smaller  size,  of  various 
degrees  of  excellence,  were  produced  during  the  period 
above  mentioned. 

In  addition  he  painted  a.  very  large  number  of  water- 
colour drawings,  too  numerous  to  particularise  here  ; but 
a few  of  the  more  important  were,  indeed,  some  of  Cox’s 
greatest  achievements  in  Art,  such  as  the  “Welsh 
Funeral  ” (Mr.  Craven’s) ; “ Bolsover  Castle ; ” several 
grand  works  of  “Beeston  Castle,”  a superb  drawing,  of 
large  size  ; Windsor  Park  and  Castle,  with  the  Queen  and 
her  attendants  issuing  from  the  leafy  covert  in  the 
distance,  a herd  of  deer  in  the  middle  ground,  and  some 
grand  oaks  in  front  tossing  their  hoary  arms  in  the 
air — this  fine  work,  once  Mr.  Mayou’s,  is  now  the  pro- 
perty of  Mr.  F.  Craven.  The  same  gentleman  also 
possesses  the  magnificent  drawing  of  “ Besom-makers 
on  Chat  Moss,”  one  of  the  productions  of  this  busy 
period.  “Peace  and  War — with  Yokels,”  the  “Green 
Lanes,  Staffordshire,”  the  “ Skylark  ” (a  lovely  draw- 
ing), “CrossBoads  : Asking  the  Way,”  “Penmaenmawr,” 
“ Caer  Cennen  Castle  : the  Bain  Cloud,”  “ Peat- 

gatherers  returning  from  the  Moors,”  “ The  Flood  at 
Cor  wen,”  “ Snowdon  from  Cap  el  Curig,”  the  “ Mountain 
Top,”  superb  drawings  of  “ Lancaster  and  Ulverstone 
Sands,”  and  very  many  others,  far  too  numerous  to 
mention,  were  executed  in  rapid  succession,  and  altogether 
constituted  an  amount  of  work  produced  during  the 


122 


DAVID  COX. 


eight  or  ten  years  specified  which  surprises  from  its  high 
quality  as  well  as  from  its  quantity,  and  speaks  volumes 
for  the  busy  hand  and  teeming  brain  of  the  gifted  artist 
who  achieved  such  marvels.  The  catalogue  of  the 
Society  of  Painters  in  Water-Colours  records  the  large 
number  of  one  hundred  and  thirty- six  drawings  ex- 
hibited by  Cox  in  the  Pall  Mall  Gallery,  during  the 
ten  years  from  1844  to  1854*  inclusive.  He  must  have 
made  many  more  than  these  in  that  time  which  were 
not  exhibited. 

There  was  a directness  of  aim  in  David  Cox,  which, 
coupled  with  untiring  industry,  will  account  for  the 
great  amount  of  work  he  was  enabled  to  accomplish. 
He  had  a way  of  his  own  in  looking  at  Nature,  and  in 
recording  what  he  saw  and  felt,  and  lost  no  time  in 
considering  whether  it  would  he  better  to  endeavour  to 
see  with  other  eyes,  and  work  according  to  other 
methods.  He  was  satisfied  with  his  own  lights  and  gifts 
— they  were  his , and  for  him  alone,  and  he  was  to  do 
his  best  with  them.  Accordingly  he  laboured  hard 
with  the  tools  he  found  ready  to  his  hands,  and  the 
result  was  an  abundant  product,  which  the  world  has 
appraised  at  a high  value.  There  was  a still  small 
voice  which  constantly  whispered  in  his  ear  the  injunc- 
tion, “ Eely  on  yourself  ! Have  faith  in  your  own 
nature,  and  in  the  faculties  with  which  you  are 
endowed  ! Work  ! work  ! and  do  your  best  ! Leave 
the  result  of  your  efforts  in  other  hands  ! 99  And  Cox 
did  work  ; he  accepted  the  guidance  of  his  own  gifts, 
and  he  relied  wholly  on  himself.  He  never  looked  to 


HOMELINESS  OF  HIS  WORKS. 


123 


the  right  nor  to  the  left  for  aids  and  helpers.  He  songht 
neither  to  create  nor  to  imitate  any  particular  School 
of  art.  He  thought  and  felt  for  himself ; ever  putting 
into  his  works  his  own  mind  and  feelings  ; and  as  a 
consequence  of  his  direct  method  and  singleness  of 
purpose,  his  artless  unaffected  nature  is  seen  in  all  he 
did.  His  aim  in  art  was,  to  look  at  the  subjects  he 
purposed  to  delineate,  with  a view  solely  to  their  interest- 
ing qualities,  and  to  treat  them  in  a simple,  natural, 
unaffected  manner.  His  pictures  have,  therefore,  an 
honest,  faithful,  and  often  a homely  look — like  a bundle 
of  May-blossoms,  or  a cluster  of  daisies  cut  out  of  the 
green  sward.  They  appeal  to  us  like  the  familiar  faces 
of  old  friends.  They  win  their  way  to  our  hearts  at 
once,  and  are  refreshing  as  a summer  breeze.  Hot  one 
of  them  ever  says  to  us,  “ How,  look  at  me.  I am  a 
miracle  of  art  ! I address  myself  to  an  educated, 
highly-cultivated  taste,  and  none  other  can  appreciate 
me  or  measure  my  excellence  ! Ho  ; but  they  say,  one 
after  another,  <c  I am  that  sweet  green  lane,  down  which 
you  loved  to  stroll  when  a child,  to  pluck  the  blue-bells 
on  the  hedge-banks,  and  the  hawthorn-bloom  from  the 
boughs  that  overhung  the  path  ! I am  that  breezy 
common  you  have  often  scoured  across  with  your  play- 
mates, when  the  gorse  was  in  full  flower,  and  the  gipsies 
encamped  in  the  heather,  and  the  windmill  whirled  its 
sails  in  the  fresh  gale,  like  a thing  of  life,  and  you 
were  a boy,  let  out  from  school  on  a holiday,  blithe  as 
the  lark  that  carolled  above  your  head  ! I am  that 
rocky  stream,  winding  among  the  hills,  and  beneath  the 


124 


DAVID  COX. 


verdant  screen  of  tangled  branches,  down  which,  rod  in 
hand,  yon  wandered  for  hours  when  youth  was  growing 
into  manhood,  in  search  of  spotted  trout  or  silvery 
salmon,  with  no  cloud  on  enjoyment,  hut  rejoicing  in 
health  and  a contented  mind  ! I am  that  delightful 
meadow,  green  as  an  emerald,  dotted  with  browsing 
cattle  and  white-fleeced  sheep,  and  spangled  with 
buttercups  and  daisies,  in  which  you  often  whiled  away 
an  hour  at  eventide  or  early  morn  in  the  pleasant  days 
gone  by,  when  life  was  opening  like  a fairy  vision,  and 
your  young  heart  was  full  of  hope  and  love  for  all 
things  beautiful  ! I am  that  far-away  blue  hill  you 
first  beheld  when  you  made  your  earliest  excursion  into 
dear  old  Wales,  and  which  drew  you,  magnet-like,  mile 
after  mile,  determined,  though  footsore  and  weary,  to 
ascend  its  rugged  slopes,  and  to  stand  ere  sunset  upon 
its  lofty  summit  ! I am  that  far-stretching,  desolate 
moor,  its  boundaries  mingling  with  the  cold  grey  sky, 
where  huge  blocks  of  stone  lie  among  the  heather,  and 
ribbed  rocks  crop  up  from  the  earth’s  mossy  breast, 
and  where  nought  living  is  seen  for  miles  but  a few 
mountain-sheep  nibbling  the  sweet  turf,  or  a few  peat- 
gatherers  laden  with  fuel  for  the  cottage  fires  ! I am 
that  splintered  ridge,  the  summit  of  the  mountain,  where 
the  storms  of  ages  have  done  battle  in  the  stern  winters, 
and  grey  mists  whirl  round  and  round  shrouding  them 
from  sight,  or  parting  now  and  then,  and  showing  grim 
peaks  and  inaccessible  recesses,  where  the  kite  or  eagle 
nestle  safely  with  their  young,  and  on  whose  topmost 
crags  you  have  stood  after  the  toilsome  ascent,  proud  as 


THE  SECRET  OF  HIS  POWER. 


125 


the  warrior  in  the  hour  of  victory  ! I am  that  silvery 
beach,  which  in  the  summer  heat  drew  you  from  the 
dusty  town,  from  office  and  workshop,  to  saunter  along  its 
smooth,  dry  sands,  to  be  soothed  by  the  murmur  of  the 
ripples  softly  falling  on  the  shore,  or  awed  by  the  rush 
of  storm-waves  leaping  in  great  breakers  to  your  feet  ! 
I am  that  mouldering  ruin,  half -hidden  in  coeval  trees, 
and  screened  from  the  winds  by  soft  surrounding 
hills,  which  you  visited  when  the  evening  shadows  of 
life  were  falling  across  your  path,  and  you  reflected 
on  the  approach  of  old  age  and  feebleness,  or,  may  be, 
were  preparing  for  the  dread  parting  that  comes  to  all. 
And  last  of  all — I am  that  sweet  country  churchyard, 
with  its  deep  funereal  yews,  venerable  for  age,  solemn  in 
association,  and  casting  soft  glooms  on  the  crumbling 
grave-stones  that  cluster  beneath  their  shade,  and  where 
you  have  thought  of  rest,  a sleep  unbroken ! ” This 
is  what  the  infinitely  varied  works  of  David  Cox  seem 
for  each  of  us  to  say  in  our  private  ear  ; and  so,  learning 
the  secret  of  the  master’s  power,  and  making  it  our  own, 
we  love  them  dearly  from  the  first  glance,  and  recall  the 
noble  simplicity  of  him  who  has’revived  such  recollections, 
and  roused  such  emotions  in  our  heart.  For  how  many 
years  may  not  those  of  us  “ whose  way  of  life  has 
fallen  into  the  sere,  the  yellow  leaf,”  have  been  charmed 
with  his  beautiful  works  in  the  public  galleries  and 
private  collections  of  the  country  ! Among  the 
“ miracles  of  art  ” which  from  time  to  time  have  graced 
those  displays — self-conscious,  laboured,  pretentious, 

“ learned  ” in  the  latest  talk  and  slang  of  art — how 


126 


DAVID  COX. 


refreshing  it  has  been  to  turn  to  the  truthful  and  simple 
delineations  of  Nature  which  emanated  from  the  pencil 
of  David  Cox  ! We  recognised  them  at  a glance,  even 
afar  off ; we  could  single  them  out  by  an  indescribable 
charm,  which  the  works  of  no  other  painter  possessed, 
and  which  filled  us  with  admiration  for  them  and  their 
author  ! Their  honesty — their  simplicity — their  delicious 
colour  and  sweet  atmospheric  effects — the  happy  inci- 
dents introduced — the  times — the  seasons — the  beaming 
sunshine  and  gathering  storm — all  struck  home  to  the 
affections  at  first  sight,  and  filled  us  with  gratitude  to 
the  genius  who  had  given  us  such  delight. 

The  variety  of  David  Cox  has  been  spoken  of : in- 
deed, he  has  painted  almost  every  conceivable  subject 
within  the  range  of  art — flowers,  fish,  objects  of  still 
life,  portraits,  figures,  cottages,  mansions,  churches, 
palaces,  stables,  and  cowsheds ; street  architecture, 
grand  and  picturesque  buildings  at  home  and  abroad; 
sea  calms  and  storms ; brook  and  river  scenery — the 
latter  often  teeming  with  water-craft  of  every  de- 
scription ; landscapes — how  many,  and  how  varied  in 
subject  and  treatment ! From  a simple  weedy  bank, 
with  but  a few  dock-leaves,  a straggling  briar,  and 
a cluster  of  ferns  or  tufts  of  flowering  grass  to  give 
it  interest,  yet  sparkling  with  real  morning  dew,  or 
touched  with  an  intense  gleam  of  evening  sunlight, 
to  a majestic  range  of  lofty  mountains  rejoicing  in  the 
glow  of  a summer  day,  or  solemn  with  gloom,  and 
dragging  mists,  and  lowering,  tempestuous  skies — 
from  a bit  of  fern-fringed  rock,  “ silvered  with  mosses 


HIS  INCIDENTS  AND  FIGURES. 


127 


grey/’  lying  in  the  bed  of  a torrent,  on  the  flank  of 
some  giant  hill,  with  the  water  foaming  around  it,  and 
overhanging  branches  flecking  it  with  shade — or  where, 
among  the  great  boulder- stones  thrown  about  by  erup- 
tions in  the  volcanic  age,  it  has  lain  for  centuries, 
exposed  to  all  the  rough  usage  of  elemental  strife  on 
the  bleak  bare  top  of  the  desolate  mountain  moor — to  a 
far- stretching  view  of  sea  and  plain,  hill  and  woodland, 
flashing  torrent  and  winding  river,  nestling  village, 
farm,  and  field,  and  smoky  town,  with  all  the  varied 
effects  of  sunshine,  shadow,  mist,  storm,  winter  gales, 
and  quiet  summer  days  : the  figures  and  incidents  he 
introduced  into  his  pictures  are  as  various  as  the  sub- 
jects he  painted,  and  are  always  perfect  in  their  fitness 
to  the  scenes  and  places.  They  usually  presented 
themselves  to  his  mind  when  the  subject  in  hand  was 
arranged  and  commenced,  landscape  and  incident  being 
worked  out  together,  so  that  a delightful  unity  was  the 
result.  With  some  landscape  artists  the  figures  and  inci- 
dents are  often  an  afterthought,  fitted  into  the  picture 
when  the  landscape  is  completed,  and  frequently  with 
poor  success.  One  sees  that,  to  use  a technical  phrase, 
they  are  literally  “putin.”  Cox,  as  a rule,  adopted 
the  contrary  practice,  deciding  on  his  incidents  and 
figures  when  he  settled  the  treatment  of  the  entire 
subject,  the  work  in  all  its  parts  thus  progressing 
simultaneously  to  a happy  ending.  He  was  also  espe- 
cially careful  as  regards  the  costumes  and  draperies  of 
his  figures,  so  that  they  should  be  true  to  the  localities 
in  which  they  were  placed.  The  men  and  women 


128 


DAVID  COX. 


lie  introduced  into  liis  Welsh  landscapes  are  habited  in 
the  sober-coloured  dresses  usually  worn  in  the  country; 
the  conventional  red  cloaks  and  pretty  garments  of  many 
artists  he  studiously  avoided.  Being  true  to  nature, 
his  figures  and  incidents  have  commonly  an  interest 
in  themselves,  apart  from  the  landscape,  which  lend  an 
additional  interest  to  these  also.  The  titles  of  a few  of 
his  pictures  will  explain  this  : — “ The  Common  : Cross 
Roads — Asking  the  Way/5  “ Mountain  Scene  : Shep- 
herds Collecting  their  Flocks,5’  “ On  the  River  Lledr  : 
Searching  the  Salmon-trap/5  “ Hay-harvest : Going  to 
the  Hayfield,55  “ A Rural  Scene  : Children  Flying  their 
Kite,5’  “ Lancaster  Sands : Market  People  Returning,55 
“A  Worcestershire  Landscape:  Children  Listening  to 
the  Skylark,55  “ Welsh  Hills : Peat-gatherers  Coming 
from  the  Moors/5  “ Bettws-y-coed  Church:  a Welsh 
Funeral.55  Hundreds  of  natural  incidents  like  these  are 
to  he  found  in  his  works.  He  was  the  painter  of  what 
he  saw,  both  in  landscape  and  people ; and  he  painted 
only  what  he  saw. 

As  a water-colour  painter,  David  Cox  may  be  said 
to  have  had  three  broadly  marked  and  distinctive 
manners.  His  early  style  was  hard  and  dry,  resembling 
to  a great  extent  the  styles  of  some  of  his  contemporaries 
of  the  early  part  of  this  century,  the  colour  being 
neutral,  and  the  handling  deficient  in  freedom ; but 
occasionally,  even  in  these  works,  may  be  detected 
indications  of  the  command  which  in  course  of  time 
he  was  destined  to  acquire  over  his  materials  and  the 
effects  with  which  he  has  dealt.  The  books  of  lessons 


HIS  THREE  “ MANNERS  ” 


129 


which  he  published  when  at  Hereford  contain  highly 
characteristic  examples  of  his  method  of  handling, 
colouring,  and  treating  his  subjects  at  that  stage  of  his 
career.  In  his  second  manner — in  what  may  be  termed 
his  middle  period,  embracing  a long  stretch  of  years  : 
say,  from  the  time  when  he  left  Hereford  until  his 
removal  to  Harborne,  or  nearly  so — he  exhibited  far 
greater  command  over  his  materials  and  resources  of 
every  kind  ; employed  purer  and  more  powerful  colour — 
was  more  playful,  so  to  speak,  in  his  treatment  of 
subject  — more  facile  in  his  touch  — dealt  with  the 
transient  and  poetical  effects  of  nature  with  readier 
skill  — finished  more  elaborately  — and  altogether  was 
far  more  graceful  and  captivating.  The  drawings  which 
he  executed  towards  the  latter  part  of  this  period  are 
those  which  have  been  most  popular,  and  by  the  multi- 
tude have  been  considered  his  best  works.  At  all  events 
they  are  those  which  in  the  picture -market  are  found  the 
most  saleable  productions  of  the  artist.  His  third  and 
last  manner  is  undoubtedly  the  grandest,  finest,  and 
most  striking.  It  is  characterised  by  great  power  and 
depth  of  colour,  much  refinement  in  feeling  and  expres- 
sion, large  generalised  views  of  nature,  daring  effects, 
vigorous  intrepid  execution.  Many  of  the  drawings  he 
produced  at  this  period  are  on  rough  paper,  of  which 
he  was  very  fond,  and  their  immense  power  heats  down 
everything  beside  them,  the  work  of  other  masters. 
This  style,  some  critics — may  we  not  say,  for  want  of 
knowing  better? — have  designated  “ coarse,”  cc  dauby,” 
and  “ blotty ; ” one  went  so  far  as  to  describe  them 
j 


130 


DAVID  COX. 


compendiously  as  “ mere  fluff  and  splasli ; ” but  every 
thoughtful  and  educated  student  of  art  and  nature 
knows  that  the  painter  was  at  the  height  of  his 
power  wdien  he  produced  these  magnificent  works, 
was  thorough  master  of  his  art  and  all  his  re- 
sources— had  achieved  a long  succession  of  triumphs 
over  difficulties  encountered  in  depicting  the  multi- 
tudinous phases  and  effects  of  nature — that  his  hand, 
the  ready  servant  of  a richly  stored  mind,  obeyed  his 
will  with  unwavering  precision ; and  that  the  ideas  and 
impressions  which  he  has  recorded  in  this  bold, 
daring  manner  are  the  truest  and  finest  he  has  given 
to  the  world. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Home  Life — Friends  in  Council — “ The  Skylark.” 

Greenfield  House,  Harborne,  the  last  residence  of 
David  Cox,  will  long  be  remembered  by  those  of  his 
friends  who  had  the  privilege  of  an  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  him,  as  one  in  which  many  delightful  hours 
were  spent  in  company  of  the  man  whose  genius  they 
acknowledged,  and  whose  loveable  qualities  of  mind 
and  heart  endeared  him  to  all.  There  was  nothing  in 
the  external  appearance  of  the  house  to  attract  atten- 
tion. It  was  modest  and  old-fashioned,  containing  a 
front  parlour,  with  a bow- window  looking  into  the 
garden ; another  smaller  sitting-room  adjoining  it,  only 
occasionally  used;  and  a kitchen  on  the  same  level, 
with  a particularly  light,  cheerful,  and  cleanly  look, 
roomy  and  comfortable,  with  generally  a hitch  of  bacon 
and  some  hams  hanging  from  the  ceiling.  Mrs.  Fowler 
and  Mercy,  the  servant,  took  great  pride  in  this  kitchen, 
which  was  always  scrupulously  clean  and  tidy.  The 
“ master  ” usually  sat  in  the  parlour  at  the  front.  There 
he  frequently  worked  at  his  drawings,  when  the  weather 
was  too  cold  to  sit  in  his  painting-room  up-stairs,  and 
always  in  the  evening,  by  lamp-light,  when  alone,  and 
not  expecting  friends  to  drop  in  for  an  hour’s  pleasant 
chat.  The  garden  attached  to  Greenfield  House  was  of 

j 2 


132 


DAVID  COX. 


a good  size,  well  stocked  with  fruit  trees  and  vegetables, 
and  had  a leafy  and  cheerful  look,  frequently  enticing 
the  “ master,”  for  a brief  space,  from  easel  and  canvas, 
to  saunter  down  its  clean-kept  walks  for  a quiet 
“ smoke,”  a breath  of  pure  air,  and  a glimpse  of  Nature’s 
refreshing  green. 

In  this  unpretending  but  comfortable  residence, 
David  Cox  passed  the  last  eighteen  years  of  his  life — in 
the  main,  very  happy  years.  It  is  true  that  here  he 
was  bereaved  of  the  wife  of  his  bosom,  and  left  to  find 
his  way  to  the  grave  a solitary  old  man ; but  his  com- 
pensations were  many,  and  his  after-blessings  brought 
joy  and  thankfulness  to  his  heart.  The  life  he  passed 
at  Greenfield  was  very  quiet,  but  one  wholly  after  his 
own  taste  and  choice.  The  occupations  of  each  day 
were  very  much  alike.  Soon  after  breakfast  he  went 
up- stairs  into  his  painting-room  (unless  the  weather  were 
specially  cold),  and  worked  upon  the  picture  in  hand, 
or  turned  over  his  sketches  to  select  a subject  for  a work 
about  to  be  commenced.  Then  he  would  come  down,  , 
and,  if  the  day  were  fine,  walk  about  his  garden  for  a 
few  minutes,  noting  the  growth  of  vegetables,  fruits, 
and  flowers,  and  taking  a few  whiffs  from  the  half- 
cigar  of  which  he  was  so  fond.  Then  up-stairs  again 
to  work,  till  dinner  was  ready,  about  half-past  one 
o’clock.  Occasionally  he  would  walk  as  far  as  Bir- 
mingham (accompanied  by  a boy  with  a basket)  to  do 
a little  marketing;  to  call  on  friends,  or  perhaps  to 
deliver  a small  picture  which  had  been  bespoken  by  one 
of  his  “ patrons.”  After  dinner  he  would  again  enjoy 


PLEASANT  EVENINGS  AT  HABBOBNE. 


133 


a half-cigar  for  a few  minutes,  probably  take  a short 
nap ; then  up  again  to  work  till  tea-time.  After  tea, 
friends  then  dropped  in,  to  sit  an  hour  or  two  with 
him,  to  bring  the  news  from  town,  and  look  over  his 
portfolios  of  drawings ; one  of  the  party  becoming 
“ showman  ” for  the  night,  placing  the  drawings  one 
after  another  on  the  small  table-easel,  whilst  the 
others,  with  the  painter  himself  among  them,  sat  in  a 
semicircle  looking  at  the  beautiful  transcripts  of  nature, 
and  freely  commenting  upon  them.  Cox  always  ex- 
pressed great  pleasure  when  any  particular  work  called 
forth  from  those  around  him  exclamations  of  delight, 
with  perhaps  a clapping  of  hands,  and  a request  that  it 
might  not  be  replaced  by  another  for  a short  time.  He 
would  say,  e<  I am  glad  you  like  that  so  well.  I always 
liked  it  myself.”  If  any  alteration  were  suggested  in 
a drawing  or  sketch,  he  would  receive  the  hint  with 
respectful  attention,  and  would  modestly  say,  “ Well, 
well ! perhaps  it  would  be  better  so.  I think  you  are 
right.”  Those  pleasant  evenings  will  be  long  remem- 
bered by  such  of  his  friends  as  are  still  living : a 
number,  alas  ! now  sadly  thinning.  If  alone,  at  night, 
he  lighted  his  lamp  when  the  evenings  were  long  and 
dark,  and  went  to  work  again — down-stairs  this  time,  in 
his  usual  sitting-room — taking  up  a sheet  of  rough 
paper,  which  he  delighted  to  paint  on,  and,  striking 
out  some  fine  effect  of  sunshine  and  shadow,  of  cloud 
and  tempest,  which  his  quickened  imagination  enabled 
him  to  conceive,  produced  in  a short  time  what  he  called 
a “ cartoon  ” — a subject  or  study  to  be  treated  with 


134 


DAVID  COX. 


greater  care,  in  another  form,  on  a future  occasion. 
Many  of  these  “ cartoons  ” were  made  during  the  long 
evenings  of  autumn  and  winter,  and  some  of  them  were 
remarkably  fine,  requiring  but  slight  alteration  by  day- 
light to  complete  them  as  pictures.  A little  change  of 
colour  here  and  there,  a hastily- drawn  form  corrected,  a 
line  modified,  a figure  or  incident  brought  out  with 
clearer  effect,  and  the  work  was  finished.  Bough 
these  “ cartoons  ” were,  no  doubt-— what  many  people 
would  call  “blotty”  and  “ undefined  ” — but  the  con- 
ceptions embodied  were  often  grand,  the  effects  most 
striking,  the  colour  frequently  magnificent.  They  were 
full  of  imagination,  suggestiveness,  mystery;  in  one 
word,  of  genius. 

It  always  gave  David  Cox  great  pleasure  to  see  his 
friends  — especially  those  who  were  on  an  intimate 
footing  with  him — at  Greenfield  House.  If  anything 
kept  them  away  for  more  than  a week,  he  would  think 
that  something  serious  had  occurred,  and  would  be 
uneasy  until  he  saw  them  again.  Occasionally,  a little 
note  would  be  written  to  make  inquiries,  or  to  urge 
them  to  pay  him  a visit,  assigning  various  reasons 
why  he  wished  particularly  to  see  them.  The  following 
letter,  received  by  the  writer,  is  of  this  character. 
Simple  as  it  is,  it  shows  the  hearty  feeling  of  the 
artist  for  his  friends  : — 

Greenfield,  Harborne,  January  29th,  1849, 

Two  o’Clock. 

My  Dear  Friend, — It  occurs  to  me  how  very  much  I should 
like  to  see  you  this  afternoon,  and  if  you  are  not  engaged,  pray 


FRIENDS  IN  COUNCIL. 


135 


oblige  me  by  coming  up  to  tea.  I want  most  particularly  to  see  you, 
on  several  matters.  I have  several  new  oil-pictures  begun;  and  I 
have  made  such  havoc  and  alterations  in  my  large  mountain  scene  ! 
but  am  in  great  hopes  I have  improved  it.  My  friends  here  say  I 
have  very  much.  [This  was  the  picture  painted  for  Mr.  Bullock,  of 
Hands  worth,  near  Birmingham,  entitled  “ Collecting  the  Flocks.” 
The  subject  is  a grand  one — the  treatment  fine — but  the  effect  is 
somewhat  heavy,  and  the  colour  opaque,  in  consequence  of  the 
alterations  and  re-paintings  alluded  to.  Cox  could  not  please  himself 
when  painting  it,  and  laboured  it  a good  deal.  It  was  never  quite 
satisfactory  to  him  or  his  friends.  The  note  continues  : — ] Besides 
the  above,  I have  made  a large  purchase,  and  want  your  opinion. 
Pray  do  come. 

Yours  very  truly, 

D.  Cox. 

Then,  on  the  other  side  of  the  paper,  was  an  urgent 
postscript : — 

I hope,  my  dear  friend,  if  you  really  cannot  come  this  evening,  you 
will  to-morrow ; but  this  is  a fine  afternoon,  and  I hope  you  will  come. 
Besides  all  I have  said  on  the  other  side,  I want  to  have  your  advice 
on  two  subjects  for  my  large  drawing,  and  there  is  no  time  to  be 
lost.  I must  begin. — D.  C. 

The  “ large  drawing  ” here  spoken  of  was  doubtless 
Cox’s  principal  drawing  for  the  ensuing  exhibition  of 
the  Water-Colour  Society  of  that  year.  It  was  his 
custom,  about  the  time  when  this  letter  is  dated,  to  put 
aside  all  his  oil  pictures  in  progress,  and  set  earnestly  to 
work  on  drawings  for  the  coming  exhibition.  He  liked 
to  summon  his  friends  together  on  such  occasions,  to 
look  over  his  sketches,  and  confer  with  them  as  to 
which  he  should  select  to  finish  for  the  annual  show. 
The  subject  of  the  principal  drawing  was  always  a 
matter  for  the  gravest  consideration,  and  some  delay 


136 


DAVID  COX. 


usually  took  place  before  it  was  finally  decided.  Some- 
times he  would  work  several  days  upon  a subject 
selected,  but  if  it  did  not  progress  to  his  satisfaction, 
he  would  put  it  aside,  and  take  up  another.  The  last 
large  work  he  completed  (for  the  exhibition  of  1859) 
was  a grand  study  of  the  Falls  of  the  Llugwy,  at  Pont- 
y-pair,  Bettws-y-coed.  This  had  hung  for  some  time  in 
his  sitting-room,  admired  by  all  who  saw  it.  It  was 
commenced  on  a small  sheet  of  paper,  Cox  intending  at 
first  to  represent  only  a portion  of  the  Falls ; but 
as  he  proceeded  with  his  work,  liking  what  he  had 
done,  he  drew  another  part  of  the  subject  before  him, 
on  another  similar  piece  of  paper;  and  then  another, 
and  then  a fourth,  until  he  had  taken  in  the  magnificent 
scene  in  all  its  fulness.  When  he  returned  home,  he 
had  all  these  separate  sheets  laid  down  on  a panel,  and 
carefully  united,  so  that  the  divisions  were  scarcely 
perceptible  at  the  proper  distance  for  seeing  the 
drawing,  which  from  its  size,  and  having  been  executed 
on  rough  paper,  compelled  the  observer  to  retire  for 
some  paces  to  appreciate  the  full  effect.  This  grand 
sketch  the  artist,  by  the  advice  of  his  friends,  decided 
to  send  to  the  exhibition ; and  after  he  had  for  a short 
time  worked  upon  it,  the  result  was  highly  satisfactory. 
It  is  undoubtedly  one  of  the  most  impressive  and 
important  works  he  ever  produced,  and,  when  exhibited, 
met  with  a purchaser  on  the  opening  day.  The  author 
remembers  supplying  him  with  a descriptive  quotation 
for  the  catalogue,  taken  from  Thomson’s  “ Winter,” 
which  pleased  him  greatly  : — 


RELUCTANCE  TO  TAKE  COMMISSIONS. 


137 


Resistless,  roaring,  dreadful,  down  it  conies 
From  the  rude  mountain  and  the  mossy  wilds, 

Tumbling  through  rocks  abrupt. 

Mr.  David  Cox,  the  younger,  generally  came  down 
from  London  to  visit  his  father  for  a week  or  two  at 
Christmas ; and  during  his  stay  there  was  usually  a 
pleasant  gathering  of  friends,  and  a grand  overhauling 
of  sketches  and  summer  work,  when  Mr.  David,  as  he 
was  commonly  called,  would  officiate  as  “ showman,” 
setting  up  on  the  table-easel  the  drawings  for  the 
evening  treat.  This  periodical  visit  was  always  looked 
forward  to  with  great  pleasure  by  the  old  man,  who 
never  seemed  so  happy  as  when  his  son  was  staying 
with  him.  Mr.  David  had  much  to  do  when  he  came 
down  in  assisting  his  father  in  many  ways — preparing 
paper,  mounting  sketches,  advising  as  to  exhibition 
work,  receiving  and  calling  on  friends. 

David  Cox  had  many  warm  and  attached  friends, 
who  frequently  called  to  see  him  at  his  Harborne 
residence.  Some  of  these  were  the  possessors  of  valu- 
able works  of  art  by  the  most  eminent  masters  of  the 
day,  and  were  desirous  of  enriching  their  collections  by 
the  addition  of  as  large  a number  of  their  friend’s  pro- 
ductions as  they  could  obtain ; accordingly,  commissions 
for  pictures,  large  and  small,  poured  in  upon  him,  some 
of  which  he  executed,  but  many  were  never  commenced. 
He  was  usually  reluctant  to  complete  works  that  had 
been  bespoken ; he  appeared  to  lose  interest  in  them  as 
soon  as  an  intending  purchaser  had  written  his  name  on 
the  back,  preferring  to  take  up  some  fresh  subject 


138 


DAVID  COX. 


which  no  one  had  seen — the  idea  of  which  had  probably 
occurred  to  him  as  he  entered  his  painting-room  in  the 
morning — and  on  this  he  would  work  until  the  picture 
was  finished,  when  it  was  gladly  carried  off  by  the  first 
person  who  had  the  chance  of  seeing  it.  Large  pictures 
he  speedily  tired  of;  they  gave  him  a great  deal  of 
trouble ; he  could  not  keep  up  the  fire  necessary  by 
continuous  labour  to  carry  them  successfully  to  the 
end ; and  he  never  appeared  to  work  at  them  with  the 
same  pleasure  as  at  his  smaller  pictures.  Consequently 
he  painted  but  few  large  landscapes  in  oil;  the  majority 
of  his  works  are  of  small  dimensions,  and  such  as  he 
could  dash  off  with  comparative  ease.  These  are  his 
happiest  productions,  full  of  spirit  and  of  the  evidences 
of  his  impulsive  genius ; and  many  of  them  are  without 
doubt  comparable  to  the  best  works  of  the  British 
School  in  landscape  art.  His  mind  was  exceedingly 
fertile  and  inventive,  teeming  with  new  ideas  which  he 
was  anxious  to  record  before  the  freshness  of  them  had 
passed  away.  This  fact  will  in  some  measure  account 
for  the  large  number  of  unfinished  works  which  he  left 
at  his  death.  He  would  often  put  by  the  picture  in 
hand  to  make  a quick  record  of  some  “ idea,”  as  he 
termed  it,  which  had  suddenly  occurred  to  him,  and  in 
which  for  a time  he  was  greatly  interested,  to  the 
exclusion  of  every  other ; but  after  working  for  a little 
while  at  the  subject,  he  was  overmastered  by  another 
“idea,”  possessing  new  attractions;  and  the  previous 
work,  partly  finished,  was  then  laid  aside  till  a more 
convenient  season,  which  frequently  did  not  arrive. 


KINDNESS  TO  BROTHER  ARTISTS. 


139 


He  was  thus  continually  wandering  away  to  “ fresh 
woods  and  pastures  new.5’ 

Among  the  friends  who  often  called  at  Greenfield, 
and  who  were  ever  glad  to  be  allowed  to  spend  a few 
hours  in  his  company,  were  several  brother-artists  of 
humble  repute,  who  were  struggling  up  the  long  and 
wearisome  “Hill  Difficulty/’  and  who  were  frequently  dis- 
couraged and  down-hearted.  To  these  he  was  especially 
kind ; was  ever  glad  to  see  and  welcome  them  under  his 
roof.  Many  a valuable  lesson  has  he  given  to  painters 
of  this  class  ; many  useful  hints  to  guide  their  future 
labours  ; many  a time  has  lent  them  his  works  to  copy, 
or  to  aid  them  in  overcoming  the  difficulties  with  which 
they  were  contending.  “Well,”  he  would,  perhaps,  say 
to  one,  “ what  are  you  painting  now ? ” “I  am  en- 
deavouring, sir,  to  paint  a subject  that  gives  me  much 
trouble,  and  I cannot  succeed  to  my  satisfaction.” 
Inquiring  what  the  subject  was  (one  in  the  neighbour- 
hood probably),  “ Oh ! ” he  would  reply,  “ I know  it. 
I painted  it  myself  forty  years  ayo  ! I will  look  for  the 
drawing,  and  give  it  to  you.”  The  writer  of  this 
Memoir,  who  benefited  by  such  kindly  help  and 
counsel,  has  one  of  these  kind  presents  still,  and  hopes 
to  retain  it  as  long  as  he  lives.  He  can  truly  say  the 
years  of  his  acquaintance  with  David  Cox  were  among 
the  happiest  of  his  life,  and  whenever  he  drew  nigh  to 
the  old  house  at  Harborne  it  was  with  the  most  delight- 
ful and  affectionate  anticipations.  Sad  was  the  day 
when  the  kind-hearted  friend  was  carried  to  his  last 
long  home  in  Harborne  churchyard,  and  the  familiar 


140 


DAVID  COX. 


habitation  was  for  ever  closed  to  those  who  loved  him 
so  well. 

There  was  always  a little  stir  and  a gathering  of 
artistic  friends  at  Greenfield  House  when  some  picture 
of  interest  and  importance — a commission,  perhaps, 
from  one  of  Cox’s  numerous  patrons — was  approaching 
completion.  The  artist  was  anxious  to  do  his  best,  and 
gladly  availed  himself  of  any  suggestions  likely  to  render 
the  work  more  effective.  “ Well,  what  do  you  think  of 
my  picture  ? ” he  would  ask.  “ Most  lovely,  Mr. 
Cox ; the  best  you  have  yet  painted.  It  does  not 
require  another  touch.”  “I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say 
so.  But  I have  been  thinking  that  the  sky  wants  a 
little  more  movement.  The  clouds  would  be  better  if 
they  appeared  to  go  faster  before  the  breeze.  I want 
to  show  a proper  hay-making  day — bright  and  sunny,  of 
course,  hut  with  a brisk,  drying  wind  sweeping  across 
the  fields,  and  making  the  fleecy  clouds  speed  along  the 
sky  at  a greater  pace  than  they  seem  to  he  going  now. 
To-morrow  I must  try  what  I can  do  to  improve  this. 
My  sky  wants  more  breeziness  put  into  it.”  “ Perhaps 
it  does,  Mr.  Cox.  “ Ah  ! I thought  you’d  agree.  Why 
didn’t  you  say  that  at  first  P ” 

The  writer  calls  to  mind  a couple  of  lovely  pictures, 
painted  in  1849,  for  Mr.  E.  A.  Butler,  of  Birmingham, 
and  which  for  some  considerable  time  adorned  the  end 
of  that  gentleman’s  drawing-room.  They  were  the 
delight  of  every  one  who  saw  them,  from  their  great 
beauty  and  faithful  rendering  of  nature.  One  of  them 
was  a light,  bright,  and  breezy  hay-field  picture,  pro- 


THE  “ skylark: 


141 


bably  the  second-best  work  of  this  subject  that  Cox 
painted,  and  was  the  identical  picture  which  gave  rise 
to  the  conversation  above  recorded.  It  was  afterwards 
in  the  possession  of  Mr.  S.  Mayou  of  Birmingham  • as 
also  was  the  companion  picture,  entitled,  “ The  Sky- 
lark.” The  artist  was  undoubtedly  in  his  happiest 
mood  when  he  executed  these  two  charming  works.  He 
received  £40  each  for  them;  and  since  his  death  they  have 
been  sold  for  more  than  4,000  guineas  the  two ! The 
subject  of  the  latter  picture — “ ‘The  Skylark” — is  simple, 
but  extremely  captivating.  The  scene  is  taken  from 
some  rising  land  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Harborne, 
looking  across  a stretch  of  green  pasture  dotted  with 
cattle,  with  here  and  there  intersecting  hedgerows  and 
cottage  roofs  peeping  among  the  trees  in  the  middle  dis- 
tance; while  a far-off  range  of  low-lying  hills,  just  rising 
above  the  horizon,  and  dimly  visible,  unites  the  landscape 
with  the  sky.  In  the  foreground  is  a clump  of  fine  trees, 
their  foliage  turned  up  by  the  passing  breeze,  and  full 
of  movement ; and  near  them,  at  a stile,  cottage  children 
are  clustered  in  a picturesque  group,  listening  with  rapt 
attention  to  the  song  of  a.  lark  carolling  in  the  blue 
heavens.  One  of  the  elder  children  is  holding  up  an 
infant,  which  stretches  out  its  arms,  and  strains  its  sight 
to  discover  the  little  warbler.  The  landscape,  so  fresh 
and  lovely,  and  the  incident,  so  natural,  renders  this 
picture  a source  of  never-failing  delight  to  all  beholders  ; 
it  was  considered  one  of  the  artist’s  most  successful 
productions.  The  author,  in  a few  lines  which  he 
published  when  the  picture  was  exhibited  in  Birming- 


142 


DAVID  COX. 


ham,  endeavoured  to  interpret  to  his  readers  the  thought 
and  sentiment  embodied  in  the  work,  and  to  awake  in 
their  minds  the  pleasant  memories  and  emotions  which 
the  picture  called  up  in  his  own.  The  lines  are  intro- 
duced here  because  they  appear  to  the  author  to  show, 
as  he  conceives,  what  was  probably  passing  through  the 
mind  of  David  Cox  when  he  produced  this  beautiful 
work,  and  also  because  when  read  to  the  painter  one 
evening  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Butler,  and  in  the  presence 
of  the  picture,  he  exhibited  a degree  of  emotion  which 
testified  to  the  truth  of  the  exposition  they  were  de- 
signed to  set  forth : — 

“THE  SKYLARK.” 

Sweet  passage  in  the  early  days  of  life, 

Which  Memory  holds  in  her  embrace  till  death  ! 

That  blissful  time  we  all  remember  well — 

Still  sparkling  with  the  dews  of  childhood’s  morn — 

When,  like  these  little  ones,  we  sallied  forth. 

Enticed  by  summer’s  sun,  soft  air,  and  sky 
Of  liveliest  blue  just  freckled  o’er  with  white, 

To  cull  gay  posies  in  the  pleasant  fields. 

How  fair  were  all  things  then,  when  all  was  new  ! 

What  rapturous  emotions  thrill’d  the  breast ! 

To  our  young  eyes  the  heav’n  above  us  wore 
A brightness  like  its  Maker’s  face.  Green  earth 
To  us  was  something  more  than  beautiful, 

And  look’d  as  it  can  never  look  again. 

The  very  meadow-grass  we  gamboll’d  in, 

Alive  with  sunshine,  swaying  in  the  wind, 

Filled  our  young  souls  with  joy  unspeakable. 

Delighted  did  we  wander,  on  and  on, 

Knee-deep  in  freshest  verdure  and  bright  flow'rs, 

Hunting  the  buttercups  from  mead  to  mead, 

To  swell  the  golden  bundles  that  we  bore  : 

Hosts  plucked  we,  in  the  pleasures  of  our  hearts; 

Keeping  the  best,  the  poor  we  flung  away, 


TEE  “ SKYLARK:’ 


14  3 


Leaving  a flowery  trail  across  the  fields, 

By  which  the  youngling  runaways  were  tracked. 
How  oft  we  chased  the  gorgeous  butterfly, 

That  like  some  living  flow’r  went  flutt’ring  past  ! 
How  oft  into  the  chiming  brook  we  peep’d, 

Stealing  by  soft  approaches  to  its  edge, 

To  see  the  tiny  minnow  dart  away ! 

The  singing-bird  that  perch’d  upon  the  twig 
Close  by  our  side,  unfrighten’d,  held  us  oft 
To  listen  to  the  sweetness  of  its  song. 

And  shall  we  e’er  forget  the  thrill  of  joy 
That  shook  our  little  frame,  when  from  the  ground 
The  glorious  lark  upsprang,  and  soar’d  to  heav’n, 
Flooding  the  sky  with  wondrous  melody  ! 

How  breathless  for  a moment  did  we  stand, 

Fearing  to  scare  th’  ecstatic  prince  of  song, 

And  with  the  magic  of  his  strain  entranc’d  ! 
Heedless  of  us  he  wing’d  his  giddy  flight 
Into  the  far,  far  blue,  and  there  up-poised 
Upon  the  proudest  pinnacle  of  air, 

Hurl’d  his  wild  notes,  all  furious,  headlong  down. 
Oh  ! then  we  leapt,  and  ran  with  all  our  speed, 

And  mounted  on  the  top  bar  of  the  stile 
To  bring  us  nearer  to  the  fount  of  song. 

Long  stood  we  there  enchain’d,  and  in  our  joy 
Held  up  the  chuckling  baby  in  our  arms, 

That  he  might  hear  the  unseen  melodist — 

The  very  babe — who  stretch’d  his  hands  and  crow’d. 
And  strain’d  his  sight  to  find  the  vocal  speck  ! 

Thus  fixed,  we  stood  a spell-bound  group,  until 
The  glorious  warbler,  tiring  of  his  song, 

Gave  the  last  fragments  as  he  wheel’d  to  earth. 

And  swift  descending  shot  into  his  nest. 

Then  we  were  free  once  more  to  ramble  on. 

Oh,  happy  time  ! oh,  blissful  early  days  ! 

Can  ye  no  more  return,  to  let  us  taste 
The  keen  delight,  fresh  feeling,  happiness 
Immense,  unspeakable,  we  knew  when  young  ? 

Is  there  no  hope  that  we  again  may  view 
The  bright,  green  earth,  and  all  fair  things  around, 
As  we  beheld  them  when  our  morning  sun 
First  clear’d  the  dim  horizon  of  the  world  ? 

For  one  blest  hour,  oh  ! can  we  not  enjoy 


144 


DAVID  COX. 


Life  as  we  did  when  Maying  in  the  fields  ? 

When  flow’rs,  and  running  waters,  and  the  voice 
Of  singing-birds  had  charms  they  now  have  lost  ? 
When  the  small  minnow  held  us  by  the  stream — 

And  when  we  marvell’d  at  the  skylark’s  song  p 
’Tis  vain  to  ask  ! — those  days  are  gone  for  aye 
With  the  felicity  that  made  them  sweet ! 

And  even  memory  must  task  her  powers 

To  show  ns,  through  the  clouds  fast  gath’ring  round, 

Aught  of  the  bliss  and  brightness  of  our  morn. 

Thanks  to  the  magic  of  the  painter’s  art, 

Thanks  to  the  genius  which  thus  has  given 
A key  t’  unlock  the  stores  of  memory, 

And  set  before  our  gladdened  thoughts  once  more 
Things  slumb’ring  in  the  twilight  of  the  mind  ! 

While  gazing  on  this  pictured  scene,  we  seem 
(With  such  fine  skill  ’tis  wrought)  to  draw  our  breath 
Amid  the  freshness  of  the  summer  fields ; 

The  balmy  gale  goes  sighing  through  the  trees ; 

The  cattle  low  afar  ; the  dome  of  heav’n 
Rings  with  the  music  of  the  merry  lark  ; 

And  looking  on  the  children  at  the  stile, 

We  almost  fancy  we  are  young  again  ! 


CHAPTER  XI. 


Cox’s  Methods  of  Painting  in  Water-colour  and  in  Oil. 

To  art-students  and  amateurs  it  will  be  interesting  to 
learn  something  of  David  Cox’s  methods  of  working  in 
oil  and  water ; of  tke  colours  used  by  him ; and  of  his 
materials  generally.  A short  chapter  may  therefore  be 
usefully  devoted  to  this  subject.  It  is  based  upon 
frequent  opportunities  of  observing  him  while  at  work. 

In  painting  in  water-colours  he  for  many  years  used 
only  the  old  hard  cake  colours,  which  he  ground  in 
saucers,  large  or  small,  according  to  the  dimensions  of 
the  drawing  in  hand.  Afterwards  he  adopted  the  moist 
colours  of  modern  invention.  His  range  of  pigments 
was  strictly  limited  to  those  of  a simple,  and  what  may 
be  termed  an  old-fashioned  kind.  When  he  made  his 
second  sketching  excursion  into  Wales,  in  the  year 
1806,  his  colours  were  only  three  or  four  (and  these,  for 
convenience,  were  ground  up  and  put  into  bottles 
previous  to  starting)  — lake,  gamboge,  indigo,  and 
probably  Indian  red  — perhaps  also  a brown  of  some 
kind.  In  course  of  time  he  increased  the  number 
of  his  colours  ; cobalt,  vermilion,  light  red,  yellow  ochre, 
sepia,  burnt  sienna,  brown-pink,  and  one  or  two  more, 
were  added  to  his  colour-box.  Emerald-green  was  also 
seen  there,  but  of  this  he  used  little,  merely  for  an 

K 


146 


DAVID  COX. 


occasional  touch  on  the  draperies  of  the  figures,  the 
housings  of  saddle-horses,  or  on  the  mossy  coating 
of  a stone  or  tree  trunk.  He  cared  nothing  for 
the  “ pretty  ” pigments  of  modern  days.  With  large 
sable  pencils,  well  filled  with  the  required  tints, 
he  flooded  and  saturated  his  paper,  so  that  it  should 
he  thoroughly  stained,  to  insure  the  durability  of 
his  work,  securing  his  effects  generally  at  the  first 
trial.  A few  sharp,  brisk,  and  decisive  touches 
afterwards  gave  the  finish  and  character  desired.  The 
author  has  seen  him  on  wet  days,  when  in  Wales, 
working  in  the  house  on  three  or  four  drawings  at  the 
same  time.  To  begin,  he  mixed  a quantity  of  sky- 
colour  sufficient  for  all,  if  he  intended  them  to  be 
somewhat  alike  in  tints — say,  showing  various  modifi- 
cations of  grey  — and  then  taking  up  one  outlined 
sketch  after  another,  he  worked  as  fast  as  he  could  with  a 
large  brush,  the  colour  running  down  his  paper  in 
streams,  cloud  forms  and  other  peculiarities  being 
rapidly  shaped  and  indicated.  Whilst  one  drawing 
was  drying  he  proceeded  with  another,  taking  each  up 
in  proper  order,  gradually  progressing  with  his  subjects, 
introducing  colour  in  the  nearer  parts  and  objects,  and 
securing  light,  shadow,  effect,  until  the  work  assumed  a 
finished  appearance.  Long  practice  and  a profound 
knowledge  of  nature  enabled  him  to  do  this  with 
wonderful  facility,  and  to  give  to  his  drawings  that 
expression  of  truth  and  fidelity  for  which  they  are 
remarkable.  Many  of  his  outline  sketches  were  drawn 
with  charcoal ; some  of  them  with  black  chalk.  He 


HIS  FAVOURITE  COLOURS . 


147 


would  put  in  the  shadows  and  darker  parts  with  great 
spirit,  drawing  the  forms  characteristically  and  firmly, 
and  would  then  go  over  the  whole  with  plenty  of 
colour,  and  rapidly,  leaving  the  chalk  or  charcoal  to 
show  through.  Sometimes  the  effect  was  very  happy. 
Cobalt  was  his  favourite  colour  for  the  blue  of  the  sky ; 
this,  mixed  with  light  red,  or  vermilion,  or  occasionally 
with  a little  lake,  with  the  addition  perhaps  of  a small 
portion  of  yellow  ochre,  represented  the  shadowed  parts 
of  the  clouds  and  the  extreme  distances  of  the  pictures. 
From  the  remote  features  he  worked  downwards  to  the 
middle  grounds,  breaking  into  warmer  and  more  positive 
tints,  marking  forms  more  distinctly,  and  increasing  in 
power  by  the  introduction  of  quiet  greens  and  other 
local  colours  of  the  proper  atmospheric  hue  for  the 
distance — -his  greens  were  compounded  of  indigo,  lake, 
yellow  ochre,  or  gamboge.  In  his  fore-grounds  he  used 
the  transparent  and  more  powerful  colours — indigo  and 
gamboge,  indigo  and  brown-pink,  indigo  and  sepia  or 
Vandyke  brown,  sometimes  enriched  with  burnt  sienna 
or  lake.  Eaw  sienna  (in  water-colour)  he  rarely  or 
never  employed.  Body  colour,  so  much  in  vogue  at 
the  present  day,  he  studiously  avoided,  except  for  a 
sharp  touch  here  and  there  on  the  figures,  or  for  very 
bright  lights  on  the  details  of  the  fore-grounds,  but 
always  in  the  smallest  quantity.  He  belonged  em- 
phatically to  the  school  of  pure  water-colour  painters. 
It  is  true  that  occasionally  he  executed  drawings 
entirely  in  body  colour,  but  merely  as  experiments,  or 
as  a mere  passing  freak  ; these  are  much  inferior  to  his 
k 2 


148 


DAVID  COX . 


works  of  the  usual  kind.  There  is  one  of  these  in  the 
collection  of  Mrs.  H.  Betts  of  Birmingham,  presented 
to  that  lady  by  the  artist.  It  is  a classical  kind  of 
composition,  somewhat  in  the  manner  of  John  Martin. 
Cox  happened  to  see  it  in  a shop  window  in  London, 
long  after  he  had  painted  it,  when  it  bore  the  name  of 
Martin,  much  to  his  surprise.  He  went  into  the  shop 
and  bought  it.  Many  of  his  latter  productions  were 
upon  a coarse,  low-toned  paper  manufactured  in  Scotland, 
of  the  kind  used  for  wrapping  up  reams  of  the  better 
sort  of  paper.  Of  this,  although  full  of  specks,  and 
sometimes  creased,  he  was  very  fond,  as  it  enabled  him 
to  obtain  great  power  and  richness  of  colour  at  once, 
and  facilitated  the  production  of  those  solemn,  grand 
effects  by  which  many  of  his  later  works  are  charac- 
terised. Some  of  these,  from  their  immense  power,  give 
the  impression  of  having  been  painted  in  a medium 
different  from  water.  The  specks  alluded  to — occasionally 
large,  dark,  and  prominent — were  conspicuous  some- 
times in  the  skies  of  his  drawings,  and  had  an  effect 
that  was  far  from  being  agreeable.  The  author  observing 
one  day  several  unusually  large  specks  in  the  sky  of  a 
drawing,  said  to  him,  “ Whatever  will  you  do  with  those 
great  specks,  Mr.  Cox?  I can  see  them  half  across 
the  room!”  “Specks!  specks!”  he  replied,  “why, 
put  a couple  of  wings  to  them,  and  turn  them 
into  birds ! ” And  he  did  so  at  once.  A sharp,  dark 
touch  on  either  side,  with  another  touch  in  the  middle, 
transformed  them  in  a moment  into  rooks ; putting 
life  and  animation  into  the  picture,  by  suggesting  a 


HIS  METHOD  OF  OIL-PAINTING. 


149 


breeze  that  was  whirling  about  in  the  air  and  around 
the  tops  of  the  trees,  and  almost  carrying  the  rooks 
along  with  it. 

His  method  of  painting  in  oil  was  as  simple  and 
straightforward  as  in  water.  He  used  in  that  medium 
none  but  the  old-fashioned  colours  which  he  thought 
would  be  permanent,  avoiding  the  captivating  pigments 
of  the  modern  palette.  The  chromes  he  never  touched ; 
he  said  they  would  “ throw  his  pictures  out  of  tune.” 
His  brightest  yellows  were  Naples  and  lemon  yellow ; 
the  French  Naples  yellow  in  particular  he  was  very  fond 
of  using,  being,  as  he  said,  such  a “sweet  colour;”  and 
he  employed  it  freely  in  the  composition  of  his  light 
greens  for  herbage  and  foliage,  likewise  in  the  golden 
hues  of  sunrise  and  sunset  in  the  painting  of  skies. 
For  skies  and  distances  unobscured  by  clouds — summer 
skies  in  sunny  weather — his  blue  was  sometimes  cobalt, 
as  in  his  water-colour  drawings,  but  more  frequently  it 
was  French  ultramarine,  as  being  a little  warmer  in  tint. 
He  much  liked  yellow  ochre,  and  also  raw  umber ; the 
latter  he  occasionally  touched  into  the  grey  hues  of  his 
clouds  with  happy  effect.  He  painted  for  the  greater 
part  with  solid  colour,  except  in  the  nearer  passages  of 
his  pictures,  when  he  laid  first  a transparent  ground  of 
sufficient  depth  and  richness  to  support  whatever  details 
he  intended  to  introduce  upon  it — a ground  composed 
of  raw  sienna  and  black,  or  black  and  burnt  sienna,  or 
raw  umber  and  raw  sienna,  or  raw  sienna  with  perhaps 
a little  burnt  sienna  and  Prussian  blue,  or  possibly 
Vandyke  brown,  with  something  of  a cool  tint,  of  the 


150 


DAVID  COX. 


requisite  intensity  for  powerful  shadows  and  broad 
masses  of  dark.  On  this  ground,  whilst  it  was  in  a wet 
state,  he  painted  the  local  forms  and  details  in  their 
proper  colours,  being  careful  not  to  cover  the  whole  of 
the  transparent  underground.  He  rarely  pumiced  or 
scraped.  He  was  not  much  of  a glazer,  as  he  usually 
painted  up  to  the  desired  tone  at  once ; but  sometimes 
he  passed  a little  transparent  colour  over  portions  of  his 
foregrounds,  to  tone  down  or  to  enrich  details  which  had 
been  left  too  bright  or  seemed  too  opaque.  His  skies 
and  distances  he  blended  a little  with  a softening 
brush,  to  give  the  effect  of  remoteness  to  those  parts, 
by  removing  hard  lines  and  severe  edges.  In  painting 
the  foliage  of  trees,  if  naturally  dark  in  hue,  or  rendered 
dark  by  cloud  or  other  shadows,  whether  near  the  front, 
or  in  the  middle  distance  of  his  subject,  he  mixed 
French  blue,  or  perhaps  a little  Prussian  blue,  and  raw 
umber,  with  his  yellows,  heightened  here  and  there  with 
emerald  green,  working  French  ultramarine  and  white 
amongst  the  shadows  with  a few  brisk  touches,  to  give 
the  appearance  of  intervening  air,  and  also  to  send  them 
hack,  when  the  objects  were  somewhat  remote.  These 
tints  laid  on  a transparent  ground  of  raw  umber,  driven 
thinly,  or  sienna  and  black,  or  of  Vandyke  brown  solely, 
if  the  trees  were  near  and  strongly  painted,  had  a full 
and  rich  effect,  closely  resembling  the  appearance  of  the 
objects.  If  the  foliage  were  illumined  by  bright  sun- 
light, his  tints  were,  of  course,  much  lighter  and  gayer ; 
Naples  yellow,  touched  with  emerald  green  or  blue,, 
made  lighter  by  the  addition  of  white,  or  deeper  by 


PERMANENCE  OF  HIS  OIL  PICTURES. 


151 


ochre  or  sienna,  came  freely  into  play.  A sidelong  touch , 
intended  to  suggest  the  effect  of  a breeze  blowing  across 
the  landscape,  is  often  observed  in  the  foliage  of  his 
trees  and  in  the  herbage  of  his  foregrounds.  To 
produce  this  appearance,  he  held  his  pencil  sidewise, 
drawing  it  to  right  or  left  according  to  the  direction  of 
the  wind.  Frequently  he  used  his  palette  knife  to 
flatten  or  blur  those  parts  of  his  foliage  painting  which 
he  considered  too  “ touchy  ” (to  quote  his  own  term), 
too  precise  and  mechanical  in  the  manipulation,  to 
suggest  leaves  ruffled  by  a breeze.  In  dark,  lowering 
skies  and  sombre  distances  he  occasionally  mixed  indigo 
with  his  tints,  explaining  that,  although  said  to  be  a 
fugitive  pigment  when  combined  with  white  lead,  he 
could  not  obtain  the  true  and  desired  colour  without  it. 
That  pigment  has  hitherto  stood  very  well  in  his 
pictures.  In  compounding  his  yellows  and  greens,  he 
sometimes  mixed  together  Naples  yellow  and  ochre. 
These  combinations  have  not  altogether  been  per- 
manent : a slight  change  has  here  and  there  been 
observed  in  these  tints  ; but  generally  his  pictures,  as 
regards  colour,  have  been  improved  by  time,  losing  little 
of  their  original  brightness  and  purity.  His  usual 
vehicle  was  a mixture  of  copal  varnish  and  turpentine  in 
equal  quantities,  with  the  addition  of  a little  linseed  oil 
to  retard  the  drying,  and  make  it  flow  from  the  pencil 
more  readily.  Those  pictures  painted  with  this  medium 
have  stood  sound  and  firm,  and  happily  are  undisturbed 
by  the  operations  of  the  cleaner.  David  Cox  never 
used  a mahlstick  when  painting,  but  kept  hand  and  arm 


152 


DAVID  COX. 


perfectly  free,  resting  one  hand  on  the  other  when 
special  steadiness  was  required  in  the  finishing  of 
figures  and  small  details.  He  liked  plenty  of  pigment 
in  his  brush,  and  never  spared  the  colour-box;  his 
pictures  have  consequently  an  appearance  the  very 
opposite  of  thin  and  washy.  "When  painting  from 
nature,  he  frequently  worked  on  small  milled  boards,  a 
couple  of  which  he  carried  in  his  tin  box,  upon  slides, 
so  that  when  wet  they  were  prevented  touching,  as  he 
commonly  had  two  sketches  in  progress ; one  of  a 
morning  effect — another  which  he  could  proceed  with 
later  in  the  day.  He  painted  rapidly,  and  soon  dashed 
in  his  subject,  always  anxious  to  secure  a striking 
“ effect,”  without  which  he  cared  little  for  any  subject. 
His  usual  price  for  these  small  oil  sketches,  when 
induced  to  part  with  them  by  friends  and  admirers,  was 
only  £7  10s.  each.  But  if  any  one  turned  out  a greater 
success  than  common  in  the  finishing,  he  raised  the 
price  to  £8.  It  need  not  be  said  that  the  difference 
was  gladly  paid.  The  author  once  rescued  from 
destruction  one  of  these  beautiful  sketches,  under  cir- 
cumstances rather  amusing.  In  company  with  David 
Cox,  he  was  painting  in  the  “ big  meadow 55  at  Bettws- 
y-coed,  by  the  side  of  the  river  Llugwy.  Cox  had 
made  choice  of  a subject  looking  across  the  river,  which 
ran  in  the  foreground  from  left  to  right  of  his  picture, 
the  craggy  summit  of  one  of  the  local  hills,  touched  by 
the  morning  sun,  soaring  above  the  tree-tops  and  thick 
woods  clothing  its  sides.  The  subject  and  effect  were 
both  striking,  and  Cox  drew  forth  canvas  and  colours. 


RUBBING  OUT  A FAILURE. 


153 


and  soon  began  to  work.  His  companion  also  com- 
menced proceedings  on  another  subject  close  at  hand. 
An  hour  or  so  had  passed  very  pleasantly — both 
pictures,  judging  from  the  space  of  canvas  covered,  had 
progressed  apparently  well — when  all  of  a sudden  the 
author,  hearing  a great  bustle  behind  him,  and  looking 
round  to  ascertain  the  cause,  perceived  that  Cox  had 
thrown  down  palette  and  brushes,  and  was  proceeding, 
rag  in  hand,  to  rub  out  the  whole  of  his  morning’s 
work.  “ Don’t  do  that,  Mr,  Cox,”  the  author  shouted 
out.  “What  is  the  matter?”  “Matter?”  said  he. 
“ Why,  I can’t  paint  at  all  to-day.  Nature  is  a great 
deal  too  hard  for  me.”  And  again  he  prepared  to  efface 
what  he  had  been  doing.  “ Stop,  stop  ! don’t  rub  it 
out.  Give  it  to  me.  I like  it  very  much ; it  is  very 
good  indeed.”  “ Take  it  along  then,”  said  he.  “ Can 
you  spare  a tube  of  Indian  yellow  ? I have  used  all 
mine.  Give  me  one  for  the  picture.”  The  exchange 
was  made  with  satisfaction — on  one  side,  at  all  events. 
In  a few  weeks  the  little  sketch  was  framed,  hung  up 
in  the  author’s  house  at  Birmingham,  and  was  greatly 
admired.  Several  years  afterwards  Cox  was  induced  to 
paint  a figure  in  the  foreground  of  the  picture,  a fisher- 
man throwing  his  fly,  which  gave  completeness  to  a very 
charming  subject. 

When  painting  in  oil,  Cox  frequently  had  mis- 
givings that  his  method  of  working  was  not  in  accord- 
ance with  the  accepted  practice  — he  cherished  the 
notion  that  there  were  secrets  which  “ the  oil  men  ” 
would  not  tell  him — and  he  was  invariably  nervous  and 


154 


DAVID  COX . 


fidgety  wlien  any  of  tlie  painters  in  oil  approached  his 
pictures  to  examine  them  closely.  He  suspected  that 
something  was  wrong,  or  at  least  Qdd  and  unusual  in 
the  manipulation,  or  in  the  laying  on  of  his  colours. 
One  incident  of  this  kind  illustrates  his  feeling.  An 
oil-painter  was  watching  him.  Said  Cox — “Come, 
what  is  the  matter  now  ? I daresay  I have  not  done 
it  in  a proper,  artist-like  way.  My  pictures  are  not 
intended  to  be  smelt ! So  come  here,  and  tell  me  how 
you  like  the  general  effect.  I have  sold  the  picture, 

and  to  Mr. . So  I suppose  it  is  pretty  well — 

for  me The  individual  addressed  replied,  “ I was 
looking  at  the  figures,  Mr.  Cox.  How  admirably  you 
have  painted  them  ! Why,  they  are  in  motion,  and 
will  walk  out  of  the  picture  presently/’  “Will  they? 
I am  so  glad  you  like  them.  What  do  you  think  of  my 
trees  ? ” “ Why,  they  are  in  motion,  too.  I can 

almost  hear  the  breeze  through  the  branches  ! ” Cox 
smiled  and  answered,  “ What  do  you  think  a lady  said 
to  me  yesterday  ? She  was  looking  at  this  picture,  and 
exclaimed,  “ How  fond  you  are  of  painting  wind,  Mr. 
Cox ! There  is  always  a breeze  in  your  pictures ! I 
declare  I shall  take  cold,  and  must  put  on  my  shawl ! ” 
“ The  highest  compliment  she  could  have  paid  you/ 
“Was  it?  Well,  well ! Now  let  us  go  down  to  tea.” 


CHAPTEK  XII. 

His  Position  as  an  Artist — Serious  Attack  of  Illness. 


In  the  brilliant  cluster  of  eminent  water-colour 
painters  who  were  his  contemporaries — Turner,  Front, 
De  Wint,  Copley  Fielding,  Barrett,  Cattermole,  William 
Hunt,  and  others — men  with  whom  he  was  associated 
at  an  early  period,  and  who  by  their  genius  have  given 
to  the  British  School  of  water-colour  art  its  pre- 
eminence over  all  the  world — David  Cox  stood  con- 
spicuous. The  originality  of  his  style,  the  charming 
variety  of  his  effects,  the  picturesque  loveliness  of  his 
subjects,  the  novelty  of  his  ideas,  the  beauty  of  his 
colour,  the  truthfulness  to  Nature  manifest  in  his  works, 
singled  him  out,  and  placed  him  in  the  front  rank  of 
the  artists  of  his  day.  He  was  never  so  popular, 
perhaps,  as  some  of  his  compeers ; as,  for  instance, 
Copley  Fielding,  whose  works  were  more  highly 
finished,  and  whose  style,  in  the  opinion  of  the  general 
public,  was  more  captivating  than  his.  Fielding’s 
drawings  in  the  exhibitions — frequently  numerous — 
were  eagerly  purchased ; sometimes  to  the  great  annoy- 
ance of  Cox,  whose  finest  works  were  often  returned  to 
him  unsold.  There  was  a brusque  and  homely  ap- 
pearance about  the  latter,  frequently  a roughness  and 
blottiness  in  the  manipulation,  which  were  by  no 


156 


DAVID  COX. 


means  attractive  to  fastidious  persons,  who  fancied 
that  softness  and  smoothness  of  surface  were  evidences 
of  high  artistic  excellence;  that  delicacy  of  handling 
and  careful  elaboration  were  proofs  of  consummate 
skill,  and  tests  of  merit.  Such  persons  would  pass  by 
the  broad,  vigorous,  suggestive,  masculine  drawings  of 
David  Cox  with  a shrug,  and  an  entire  disbelief  in  his 
genius,  to  secure  the  more  polished  and  pleasing  pro- 
ductions of  his  neighbour.  But  Time  has  reversed  the 
verdict,  and  set  that  matter  right.  “ Old  Farmer 
Cox/’  as  he  was  sometimes  called,  has  taken  his 
proper  place  among  his  competitors,  second  only  to 
Turner,  the  greatest  master  of  landscape  art  the  world 
has  ever  seen,  and  in  some  respects  not  second  even 
to  him.  Still,  in  the  days  when  his  commanding 
qualities  were  imperfectly  recognised,  Cox  had  com- 
pensation for  the  general  neglect.  He  always  had 
enthusiastic  admirers  — and  not  only  admirers,  but 
many  who  also  loved  the  man  as  well  as  his  works — 
among  the  ablest  and  most  eminent  of  his  brother 
artists,  and  the  best  art  connoisseurs  of  his  day,  who 
knew  his  worth  and  acknowledged  his  genius,  and  this 
comforted  him  under  many  disappointments.  The 
consciousness  of  this  appreciation  of  his  merits  by 
those  whose  good  opinion  was  “ an  exceeding  great 
reward/’  upheld  him  when  smarting  under  the  morti- 
fication of  receiving  back  unsold,  year  after  year,  many 
of  the  finest  works  he  had  contributed  to  the  annual 
exhibitions.  The  following  letter,  addressed  to  his  old 
friend  Mr.  Boberts,  during  one  of  his  annual  visits  to 


A LETTER  ON  THE  EXHIBITIONS. 


157 


London,  shortly  after  the  opening  of  the  Water-Colour 
exhibition  of  1846,  is  very  interesting,  as  giving  Cox's 
opinion  of  the  contents  of  the  various  exhibitions 
then  open  to  the  public,  and  as  touching  on  his  own 
indifferent  success  and  position  in  the  Water-Colour 
Gallery,  Pall  Mall.  This  letter  is  dated  thirteen  years 
before  his  death,  but  his  position  was  not  very 
materially  changed  afterwards  : he  was  never  so  great 
a favourite  with  the  general  public  as  some  other 
exhibiting  members  of  his  society  — 

Laurel  Cottage,  Streatham  Place, 

Brixton  Hill,  London, 

April  28th,  1846. 

My  Dear  Friend  Roberts, — I know  you  would  expect  to  have 
heard  from  me  ere  this,  but  you  know  what  a place  London  is  for 
business  and  objects  of  interest.  I have  been  fully  occupied  in 
touching  upon  my  drawings  and  looking  at  exhibitions,  and  I am  sorry 
to  say  none  first-rate — that  is,  neither  the  B.  Institution,  British 
Artists,  or  the  Old  "Water-colour.  And  I fear  you  will  think  it  but 
an  indifferent  show.  They  all  appear  much  the  same  as  for  the  last 
ten  years.  My  own  drawings  are  most  of  them  tolerably  well  hung, 
and  the  members  say  how  well  they  like  them.  They  certainly  are 
very  unlike  any  one  else’s.  For  me  to  say  more,  or  what  I think  of  my 
own,  will  be  rather  more  than  I wish,  and  would  rather  leave  it  for 
you  and  others.  The  Times  of  yesterday  gave  me  a favourable 
criticism,  and  if  the  rest  of  the  papers  do  not  say 'less,  I shall  be  very 
well  reported.  I rather  fear  The  Spectator  on  Monday  next.  They 
generally  are  rather  severe. 

My  “Forest  Scene,”  and  the  “Mountain  Spring,”  seem  to  be 
most  liked  by  the  artists.  [These  were  called  in  the  catalogue, 
“ Outskirts  of  a Forest,”  and  “ The  Watering  Trough  ” — both  very 
fine  works.]  I have  at  present  sold  only  two — ten-guinea  drawings 
— but  as  I see  my  “ Forest”  looks  so  well  under  a glass  [Cox  usually 
had  his  exhibition  drawings  framed  in  London,  and  did  not  see  them 


158 


DAVID  COX. 


“ under  glass  ” before  he  visited  the  exhibition],  I intend  purchasing 
that  for  my  own  pleasure,  and  when  I go  town  to-morrow  shall  mark 
it  “sold.”  . . . Fielding  has  sent  more  than  forty  drawings, 

some  large,  and  a great  number  appear  to  be  sold.  De  Wint  has 
also  sold  some,  but  I do  not  like  him  so  well  as  in  former  exhibitions. 
We  have  two  very  promising  young  men — the  two  Fripps— one  in 
figure,  the  other  in  landscape.  Harding,  one  drawing;  Stone,  one, 
small.  I have  heard  that  the  two  latter  gents,  are  about  to  leave  the 
Water-colour  Society  to  make  themselves  eligible  for  the  ballot  in 
the  It.  Academy.  I learn  that  Stone  stands  a chance.  ...  I 
was  not  much  pleased  with  either  the  B.  Institution  or  B.  Artists. 
The  picture  that  I liked,  and  could  look  at  with  most  pleasure,  is  a 
“ Showery  Bay,”  by  Dighton.  He  was  a pupil  of  Muller.  I do  not 
know  anything  about  the  work  or  painting  of  it.  Turner’s  may  be 
very  clever,  and  I am  bound  to  suppose  he  cannot  do  anything  very 

bad,  but  I could  not  very  well  discover  the  merit  of  it.  L I 

think  good,  but  very  little  interest — no  mind.  I don’t  like  Banby. 

. . . Pyne,  at  the  British  Artists’,  stands  first,  but  he  is 

lighter  and  paler  than  ever.  There  are  not  many  good  pictures  there. 
Anthony  is  of  very  great  promise,  and  has  one  or  two,  very  large  and 
great,  and  in  most  respects  good.  Holland,  not  so  good  : but  I soon 
tired,  and  do  not  now  retain  a favourable  opinion  of  the  exhibition. 

I called  at  the  “ Craven  ” on  Saturday,  and  inquired  of  Mr. 
Tapster  whether  you  were  arrived,  as  I expected  you  and  Mr.  Birch 
at  the  Private  View  that  day.  But  I was  disappointed  that  neithei 
of  you  were  there.  I believe  the  “Academy”  will  open  on  Monday 
next,  and  I shall  stay  in  town  for  the  purpose  of  going  on  the  day  of 
opening,  and  again  on  Tuesday  ; pack  up  on  Wednesday,  and  return 
home  on  Thursday.  Wm.  Ellis  is  very  anxious  to  get  out  of  town 
for  Bolton,  and  this  will  oblige  me  to  leave  on  Thursday,  as  I have  a 
great  wish  to  finish  one  of  my  large  pictures  for  Manchester,  and  it 
must  be  finished  before  I can  leave  for  Yorkshire.  I have  seen 
Jutsum,  but  not  Bright — he  lives  so  far  off.  I have  also  seen  H. 
Johnson,  and  met  him  again  yesterday,  at  the  Old  Water-Colour 
Gallery. 

So  much  for  gossip  about  art  and  artists,  and  other 
matters  connected  with  Cox’s  visit  to  London.  The 


WITHDRAWS  HIS  PICTURES  FROM  SALE. 


159 


concluding  portion  of  the  letter  relates  to  home  affairs, 
and  shows  the  kindly  feeling  of  the  man  with  regard 
to||those  who  were  known  to  or  dependent  upon  him, 
and  the  gratitude  he  felt  for  small  services  rendered 
to  him  or  his.  In  fact,  he  could  never  sufficiently 
repay  any  one  for  kindness  shown  him.  He  goes  on  to 
say 

From  a letter  I received  from  Ann  yesterday,  I was  very,  very 
sorry  to  learn  so  bad  an  account  of  poor  Ada  Birch.  I fear  our 
friend  must  prepare  himself  to  lose  her.  Her  illness,  I suppose, 
prevented  him  coming  to  town  last  week,  and  unless  she  is  better 
perhaps  will  prevent  his  coming  next  week. 

I beg  to  give  my  kindest  regards  to  dear  Mrs.  Boberts,  and 
thank  her  for  her  kindness  in  going  to  see  my  servant  Ann,  and  you 
also  I beg  to  thank  most  sincerely  for  going  and  making  so  kind  an 
offer,  in  case  she  wanted  anything.  Love  to  your  two  darlings ; and 
to  our  friend  Birch.  David  and  Hannah  beg  to  send  their  kindest 
regards  to  Mrs.  Boberts  and  yourself ; and  with  many  thanks  for  all 
kindness, 

I remain,  yours  very  truly, 

David  Cox. 

P.S. — Tell  our  friend  Birch  I should  have  written  to  him,  but  I 
cannot  be  certain  whether  he  would  be  at  home,  or  at  Bedleaf.  He 
will  therefore  please  excuse. 

To  Wm.  Boberts,  Esq.,  Metchley,  Harborne,  Birmingham. 


Having  regard  to  Cox’s  indifferent  success  in  selling 
tlie  works  lie  contributed  to  the  Water-Colour  exhibi- 
tions, it  is  amusing  to  read  in  the  foregoing  letter  that 
on  finding  his  principal  drawing,  the  “ Outskirts  of  a 
Forest,”  had  not  met  with  a purchaser  soon  after  the 
opening  of  the  exhibition — that  he  had  sold  only  “ two 


160 


ID  AVID  COX. 


small  £10  works/’  whilst  other  exhibitors  had  met  with 
a considerable  amount  of  success — “ it  was  his  intention 
(as  it  looked  so  well  under  a glass)  to  purchase  it  for 
his  own  pleasure,  and  that  on  the  following  day  he 
would  mark  it  ‘ Sold  ! ’ ” Poor  Cox  ! He  doubtless 
felt  greatly  mortified  and  disappointed  that  the  public 
did  not  appreciate  his  efforts  as  they  did  those  of  some 
of  his  brother  artists  of  inferior  merit,  as  he  thought ; 
and  must  have  quitted  the  exhibition  many  a time  dis- 
gusted and  disheartened.  He  had  been  known,  shortly 
before  the  close  of  the  exhibition,  when  but  few  of  his 
drawings  had  met  with  a purchaser,  and  his  competitors 
had  sold  nearly  the  whole  of  their  contributions,  to 
order  the  secretary  to  affix  the  ticket  “ Sold  ” on  all  his 
unsold  works ; thus,  in  disdain,  withdrawing  them  from 
the  competition.  “ My  drawings,”  he  says,  “ are  cer- 
tainly very  unlike  any  one  else’s.”  This  will  perhaps 
account  in  some  measure  for  so  many  being  returned 
on  his  hands.  They  were  the  productions  of  an  original 
mind,  working  in  a manner  peculiar  to  itself,  having  no 
resemblance  to  that  of  any  other  artist,  and  to  be  judged 
of  by  only  the  few.  He  despised  mere  “portraits  of 
places,”  as  he  termed  the  subjects  of  some  of  his 
brethren,  which  caught  the  public  taste,  and  were 
quickly  bought  up.  It  was  not  to  accomplish  such  work 
that  he  had  devoted  his  life  and  the  best  energies  of 
his  mind  to  the  pursuit  of  art ! But  in  spite  of  his 
many  and  trying  disappointments,  year  after  year ; and 
notwithstanding  his  mortification  at  perceiving  that 
his  “ bits  ” and  small  works  only  were,  as  a rule,  those 


SNOWDON  FROM  CAPEL  GUBIG. 


161 


for  which  the  public  had  any  regard,  whilst  his  impor- 
tant drawings — those  into  which  he  had  thrown  his 
whole  soul,  and  to  the  production  of  which  he  had 
given  the  best  efforts  of  his  genius,  with  all  he  knew 
and  felt  and  could  imagine — were  looked  upon  with 
comparative  indifference ; he  bore  up  bravely  under  all, 
and  kept  on  working  in  the  way  that  was  natural  to 
him — in  the  way  he  thought  best— achieving  many 
grand  successes  and  producing  magnificent  works,  for 
which,  now  that  their  creator  is  gone,  the  world  has  be- 
come grateful. 

Among  these  successes,  and  in  addition  to  the  im- 
portant drawings  before  mentioned,  may  be  enumerated 
several  pictures  of  “ Beeston  Castle/5  in  Cheshire  (one 
superb  drawing,  with  a stormy  sky,  once  in  the  posses- 
sion of  Mr.  Henry  Bradley,  a great  admirer  of  Cox — 
and  another  with  a luminous  rainbow,  a most  beautiful 
work),  the  “ Mountain  Top  55  (very  grand  indeed,  one  of 
the  artist’s  most  impressive  productions),  the  “ Moors 
near  Bettws-y-coed,55  “ Grordal  Scar,”  “ Peat-gatherers 
Returning  from  the  Moors,”  “ Snowdon  from  Capel 
Curig.”  The  writer  was  with  David  Cox  when  he 
made  the  study  for  this  last  great  work,  and  will  never 
forget  the  enthusiasm  with  which  Cox  recorded  the 
superb  effect  he  beheld  on  first  catching  sight  of  the 
mountain.  Snowdon  was  revealed  under  a cloudy  sky, 
was  of  the  deepest  and  most  intense  cobalt  blue,  and  a 
misty  wreath  of  snowy  whiteness  hung  from  near  the 
summit  to  about  half-way  down  the  mountain  side. 
Woods  in  dark  shadow  occupied  a portion  of  the  middle 
L 


162 


DAVID  COX. 


distance,  enhancing  the  effect  of  the  whole  scene  ; and 
altogether  the  spectacle  was  startling  in  its  sublimity. 
Cox  was  entranced  ; and  saying,  “ I must  try  for  that ! ” 
pulled  out  paper  and  colours  as  quickly  as  possible,  and 
began  his  drawing.  He  dashed  away  at  great  speed, 
anxious  to  secure  the  effect  before  a change  took  place ; 
and  in  a short  time  completed  a most  powerful  sketch. 
From  this  he  afterwards  worked  out  one  of  his 
finest  and  most  suggestive  drawings.  Well,  in  this 

way  he  laboured  on,  day  after  day  and  year  after  year, 
“ toiling,  hoping,  rejoicing ; ” sometimes,  no  doubt,  cast 
down  and  desponding,  hut  not  for  long.  His  spirit  rose 
again  buoyant  and  hopeful ; he  pursued  his  accustomed 
way,  and  accomplished  his  allotted  tasks  nobly  and 
bravely.  Time,  in  his  course,  beheld  the  indomitable 
artist  working,  with  scarce  a break,  either  at  his  easel 
indoors  or  in  the  fields,  jotting  down  the  beautiful 
features  of  nature  and  the  effects  that  so  delighted  him, 
good  health  and  a good  constitution  sustaining  him 
through  his  labours,  until  a rather  serious  attack  of 
bronchitis  in  the  spring  of  the  year  1853  compelled  him 
for  several  weeks  to  lay  down  palette  and  colours  and  give 
himself  the  requisite  nursing  and  rest.  He  had  scarcely 
recovered  from  this  attack  when,  in  the  month  of  June 
following,  he  was  seized  with  an  illness  of  a much  more 
alarming  character.  On  going  into  his  garden  for  the 
purpose  of  cutting  asparagus  for  dinner,  the  position 
of  stooping  over  the  bed  for  some  little  time  brought  on 
a determination  of  blood  to  the  head,  which  caused  him 
to  fall  to  the  ground  in  an  almost  senseless  condition. 


DANGEROUS  ATTACK  OF  ILLNESS. 


163 


He  was  discovered  lying  there  by  his  servant  Mercy, 
who  was  wondering  what  had  become  of  her  dear  master, 
as  he  did  not  return  to  the  house,  and  she,  in  the  utmost 
terror,  raised  an  alarm  which  speedily  brought  some  one 
to  her  assistance.  Mrs.  Fowler  at  the  time  ‘was  on  a 
visit  to  her  parents  at  Hereford,  and  knew  nothing  of 
what  had  happened,  but  a messenger  was  despatched  to 
the  residence  of  Mr.  Boberts,  whose  nephew,  being 
fortunately  at  home,  posted  off  to  Birmingham,  and  soon 
brought  back  to  the  assistance  of  Mr.  Cox  his  usual 
medical  adviser.  All  proper  remedies  were  employed, 
and  the  old  man  was  ere  long  restored  to  his  former  con- 
sciousness. The  attack  had  produced  a slight  congestion 
of  the  brain,  and  for  a time  he  was  very  ill  and  com- 
pletely disabled,  but,  with  skilful  treatment  and  good 
nursing,  he  eventually  rallied,  so  as  to  be  able  to  go  about 
the  house  and  garden,  and  to  take  short  walks  occasionally, 
leaning  on  the  arm  of  some  member  of  his  family  or  of 
a domestic.  In  a few  weeks  he  felt  himself  strong 
enough  to  do  a little  out-of-door  sketching,  and  to  sit  at 
his  easel  to  paint  in  oil.  Grateful  for  the  kind  services 
rendered  to  him  by  his  friend  Boberts’  nephew  in 
fetching  the  doctor  from  town  at  the  time  of  his  attack, 
the  first  picture  he  was  able  to  paint  was  presented  to 
that  gentleman  as  a mark  of  his  appreciation  of  the  act. 
He  cheered  up  considerably  in  a few  weeks,  and  was 
happy  at  being  able  to  get  to  work  again,  but  he  was 
never  the  same  man  after  this  illness.  His  sight  was 
injured,  and  his  memory  impaired,  particularly  as  regards 
the  names  of  persons  and  places,  of  dates,  and  other 


164 


DAVID  COX. 


matters.  It  is  a fact  that  sometimes  he  even  forgot  his 
own  name,  and  the  name  of  the  person  on  whom  he 
was  going  to  make  a call,  and  was  compelled  to  return 
home  without  accomplishing  the  purpose  of  his  visit. 
He  one  day  went  to  the  house  of  a most  respected  friend, 
Mr.  Hyla  Betts,  with  a beautiful  water-colour  drawing, 
which  he  wished  to  present  to  the  lady  of  the  house  as 
a remembrance ; hut  when  the  servant  answered  his 
knock  at  the  door  he  was  unable  to  inform  her  who  he 
was,  or  whom  he  wanted  to  see.  Luckily  there  was 
some  one  within  hearing  who  recognised  his  voice,  and 
called  him  by  name.  This  affliction  did  not  (as  has  been 
said)  prevent  his  painting  occasionally,  and  he  produced 
a number  of  works,  usually  of  small  size,  both  in  oil  and 
water,  after  the  attack ; but  although  many  of  them 
exhibited  evidences  of  his  former  genius,  they  were  feeble 
in  drawing,  often  inharmonious  in  colour,  and  precision 
of  touch  and  freedom  of  handling  were  conspicuously 
absent.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  he  allowed  some  of 
these  inferior  works  to  sro  forth  into  the  world ; hut  his 
admirers  were  eager  to  possess  something  from  his  hand, 
whatever  might  be  its  quality ; and  doubtless  his  im- 
paired vision,  which  was  the  chief  cause  of  the  inferiority 
of  these,  his  latest  productions,  rendered  him  unaware  of 
their  deficiencies.  It  is  true  that  he  sent  to  the  exhi- 
bitions, drawings  of  great  excellence  and  considerable 
importance  between  the  period  of  this  illness  in  1853 
and  the  time  of  his  death  in  1859;  but  the  majority,  if 
not  all  of  them,  must  have  been  earlier  works,  looked 
out  from  his  large  collection  of  sketches  and  studies,  and 


RENEWED  VISITS  TO  BETTWS. 


165 


requiring  but  little  finish  to  fit  them  for  the  purpose. 
It  is  probable  that  they  were  dated  when  the  last  touches 
were  added  to  them ; and  this  will  account  for  some  of 
them  possessing  the  finest  qualities  of  his  best  time. 
Occasionally,  when  feeling  in  better  health  and  spirits, 
he  dashed  off  something  manifesting  the  old  charac- 
teristics in  conception,  colour,  and  treatment ; hup 
speaking  generally,  the  works  of  this  final  period  may 
readily  be  distinguished  from  those  of  his  best  day  by 
feeble  drawing,  an  absence  of  freedom  in  the  manipula- 
tion— particularly  in  his  oil  pictures — great  opaqueness 
of  colour  in  the  latter,  and  an  uncertain  touch.  So  soon 
as  Cox  began  to  feel  strong  enough  after  this  alarming 
attack — in  about  a couple  of  months — he  determined  to 
pay  another  visit  to  the  dear  old  spot,  Bettws.  He 
took  with  him  one  of  his  granddaughters,  his  housekeeper, 
Mrs.  Fowler,  and  Mr.  George  Priest,  a Birmingham 
frame-maker,  for  company,  and  to  see  that  he  was  properly 
cared  for.  The  “ Boyal  Oak  ” having  become  too  noisy 
for  him,  the  party  took  up  their  quarters  at  the  farm- 
house close  by.  For  three  years  afterwards  Cox 
continued  his  periodical  visits  to  Bettws,  until  he  could 
no  longer  undertake  the  journey,  his  last  sojourn  there 
being  in  the  autumn  of  1856.  On  all  these  occasions 
he  was  accompanied  by  friends,  or  members  of  his  family, 
and  for  the  sake  of  undisturbed  peace  and  quietness,  he 
lodged  at  the  old  Farm.  For  a short  time  he  went  on 
with  his  out-door  work,  as  he  was  wont  to  do,  though 
not  with  the  old  energy  and  persistence ; his  strength 
was  gradually  deserting  him,  and  on  each  recurring  visit 


166 


DAVID  COX. 


lie  found  himself  more  feeble  than  before.  He  was  con- 
tent to  stroll  about  short  distances,  attended  by  those 
who  accompanied  him  from  home,  making  “ hits  and 
“ outlines  ” and  memoranda  of  “ effects  ” that  pleased 
him;  chatting  with  passers-by,  and  gazing  with  all 
the  delight  of  his  better  days  on  the  beautiful  scenes 
and  objects  surrounding  him  on  every  side.  We  may 
conceive  him  on  one  of  those  golden  evenings,  when  the 
suii  was  sinking  behind  the  western  hills,  contemplating 
the  glorious  spectacle  with  tearful  eyes,  at  the  thought 
that  his  sun  was  setting  too,  and  in  brief  space  would 
be  seen  no  more  by  those  on  earth  ! — lost  through  the 
long  night  of  ages  to  come  ! 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


1855. 

Visit  to  Edinburgh — His  Portrait  Painted  by  Sir  J.  W.  Gordon,  R.A. — Presen- 
tation of  it  at  Metchley  Abbey,  Harborne — Engraved  by  S.  Beilin — Bust 
by  Peter  Hollins  (Posthumous). 

At  the  commencement  of  the  summer  of  1855,  it  was 
suggested  by  one  of  the  many  Birmingham  friends  and 
admirers  of  David  Cox  that  a portrait  of  him  should  be 
painted  by  some  artist  of  eminence,  with  a view  to  its 
ultimately  being  placed  in  some  public  gallery  in  his 
native  town.  This  proposal  was  warmly  taken  up ; 
meetings  were  held ; a committee  was  formed  to  carry 
out  the  project ; a sufficient  sum  was  quickly  collected  ; 
and  it  was  decided  to  give  the  commission  to  Sir  John 
Watson  Gordon,  R.A.  and  P.R.S.A.  But  here  a diffi- 
culty arose,  of  no  slight  magnitude.  Sir  John  Watson 
Gordon  was  far  advanced  in  years,  and  unable  to  visit 
Birmingham  for  the  purpose  of  painting  the  picture ; 
and  poor  Cox  himself  was  not  only  old,  hut  very  feeble 
and  infirm.  Cox’s  medical  advisers  were  consulted,  and 
were  of  opinion  that  there  would  he  no  danger  in  his 
travelling  to  Edinburgh  by  easy  stages ; and  he  was 
recommended  to  take  that  course.  The  length  of  the 
journey,  and  apprehended  excitement  consequent  upon 
it,  terrified  him  greatly,  and  for  some  time  he  declined 
to  adopt  the  advice  of  his  friends.  Sir  Watson  Gordon 


168 


DAVID  COX. 


also  was  firm  in  his  determination  not  to  travel  to 
Birmingham,  although  much  gratified  by  having  had 
the  commission  placed  in  his  hands.  After  much  per- 
suasion, Cox  at  length  consented  to  run  the  risk  of  a 
journey  to  Edinburgh ; and  accordingly,  in  the  month 
of  August  of  that  year,  accompanied  by  his  son  and  by 
the  writer  of  this  Memoir,  he  started  for  Scotland.  It 
was  decided  to  take  a couple  of  days  to  perform  the 
journey,  and,  therefore,  the  party  slept  the  first  night  at 
Carlisle.  An  amusing  incident  occurred  at  that  place. 
After  breakfast  on  the  morning  following  their  arrival, 
the  party  sallied  forth  to  look  about  the  city,  and  see 
the  memorable  old  castle,  famous  in  the  Border  wars  be- 
tween Scotland  and  her  Southern  neighbour.  Cox  was 
much  struck  with  the  grandeur  of  the  castle-keep, 
which  stood  erect,  massive,  large,  and  strong,  and  was 
desirous  of  making  a sketch  of  it.  The  party  accord- 
ingly ascended  to  the  ramparts,  and  Cox  took  his  posi- 
tion, and  commenced  a drawing  in  colours  of  the  fine  old 
keep,  whilst  a sentry  was  patrolling  to  and  fro  on  the 
ramparts  beside  him,  interested  in  what  was  going  on. 
Guns,  it  was  remarked,  were  in  position,  pointing  down- 
wards through  the  embrasures,  in  the  direction  of 
the  Border-land,  to  scare  away  a possible  enemy.  The 
venerable  artist  had  not  been  long  at  work,  and  was 
making  good  progress  with  an  effective  sketch,  when  an 
official  came  up  on  to  the  ramparts,  and  ordered  him  to 
desist.  “ Why  so  ? ” inquired  the  old  man.  “ You  are 
making  a drawing  of  one  of  Her  Majesty’s  fortresses  in 
time  of  war,”  replied  the  official,  “ and  must  give  over 


CARLISLE  AND  EDINBURGH. 


169 


instantly.”  (The  Russian  War  was  at  that  time  being 
fought  out  in  the  Crimea — some  distance  away,  cer- 
tainly !)  The  important  official  turned  on  his  heel ; and 
Cox,  disgusted,  closed  his  sketch -hook  at  once,  and 
prepared  to  leave  the  castle.  When  the  Jack-in-office 
had  departed  (he  was  keeper  of  the  ordnance,  or  some- 
thing of  that  sort),  the  sentry  walked  up  to  Cox,  and 
said,  “ Why  didn’t  you  give  him  half-a-crown  ? — that 
was  what  he  wanted.”  “ The  humbug  ! ” muttered  Cox 
to  himself ; “I  would  not  have  given  him  a penny ! ” 
and  marched  away  from  the  place  in  high  dudgeon. 
Walking  round  the  Castle  walls,  a good  view  of  the 
keep  was,  however,  obtained  from  a spot  near  the  river 
Eden,  and  there  an  effective  sketch  was  made — beyond 
the  authority  of  the  ordnance  official — from  which  Cox 
afterwards  executed  a picture  in  oil. 

On  the  evening  of  that  day  the  little  party  reached 
Edinburgh,  and  took  up  their  quarters  for  a short 
time  at  the  “ Royal  Hotel,”  in  Princes  Street.  It  was 
getting  dusk  when  they  arrived,  and  as  they  sat  looking 
from  the  coffee-room  window  across  to  the  t£  Old  Town  ” 
opposite,  lights  sprang  up  in  innumerable  windows, 
storey  above  storey,  in  the  lofty  houses  towering  along 
the  ridge  which  faced  them,  and  the  effect  was  most 
interesting  and  novel,  suggesting  to  the  strangers  an 
illumination  on  the  occasion  of  some  important  event. 
Cox  sat  and  gazed,  delighted,  for  a considerable  time. 
He  was  also  much  struck,  on  the  following  morning, 
with  the  grand  picturesque  appearance  of  the  old  Castle, 
on  its  soaring  rock,  touched  as  it  was  by  the  beams  of 


170 


DAVID  COX. 


the  rising  sun.  The  effect  was  remarkably  fine,  and 
Cox  wished  for  his  painting-materials,  and  a convenient 
spot  from  which  to  make  a memorandum  of  so  striking 
a subject.  During  their  stay  they  took  a delightful 
drive  round  Arthur’s  Seat ; visited  Calton  Hill ; strolled 
to  H olyrood  Palace ; about  the  streets  and  wynds 
and  through  some  of  the  closes  of  the  Old  Town — 
neither  very  sweet  nor  clean,  but  particularly  inter- 
esting, and  affording  many  fine  subjects  for  a painter 
of  the  quaint  and  picturesque.  With  all  they  saw 
Cox  was  greatly  delighted,  and  thought  “ Auld  Reekie  ” 
a city  full  of  charms. 

On  the  next  morning  after  their  arrival  Cox  and 
his  companions  visited  Sir  J ohn  Gordon  at  his  rooms  in 
George  Street.  He  received  them  very  cordially, 
shaking  Cox  warmly  by  the  hand,  and  saying,  in  a 
broad  Scottish  accent,  “Welcome  to  Scotland,  Maister 
Corks  ! ” Everything  was  ready  for  the  first  sitting  ; 
the  rostrum,  with  a chair  (once  the  property  of  David 
Wilkie)  fixed  upon  it,  was  placed  in  position ; close 
beside  it  stood  the  easel,  with  a virgin  canvas  waiting 
for  the  first  strokes  of  the  pencil,  and  soon  the  work 
was  commenced.  Although  a good  deal  broken  in 
constitution,  Cox  carried  in  his  complexion  much  ruddy, 
healthy  colour,  and  looked  a splendid  subject  for  a 
portrait — in  fact,  Sir  John  said  he  had  not  had  a finer 
subject  since  he  painted  Sir  Walter  Scott,  whom  Cox, 
at  that  time,  much  resembled.  The  writer  watched 
the  progress  of  this  portrait  with  great  interest.  It 
was  executed  in  a very  easy,  straightforward  manner. 


PORTRAIT  BY  SIR  WATSON  GORDON 


171 


The  various  tints  were  laid  on  tlie  canvas  side  by  side, 
without  being  blended,  very  much  like  mosaic ; and  it 
began  to  be  a likeness,  striking  and  unmistakable, 
almost  from  the  first  touch.  It  was  a great  pleasure 
to  observe  the  portrait  growing,  as  it  were,  stroke  by 
stroke,  into  a second  David  Cox,  so  close  a resemblance 
it  bore  to  the  original,  who  was  sitting  beside  it.  With 
regard  to  the  manner  of  painting,  the  writer  remarked 
to  the  artist,  “ You  do  not  appear  to  use  a softener  to 
blend  your  tints,  Sir  John.”  “No,”  said  he;  “if  you 
wish  to  make  flesh  look  like  leather,  use  a softener ! ” 
The  picture  progressed  with  unerring  precision ; each 
sitting  carried  on  the  work  with  satisfaction  to  all.  On 
one  occasion  poor  Cox  was  very  weary,  and  seemed  to  be 
dropping  off  into  a doze,  when  the  painter,  in  his  broad 
Scottish  accent,  exclaimed,  “ Wake  up,  noo,  Maister 
Corks ! I am  going  to  do  your  expression.”  Poor 
Cox,  just  on  the  borders  of  sleep,  could  not  compre- 
hend what  was  said  to  him,  and,  turning  to  his  son, 
asked,  “What  does  he  say,  David?”  In  five  sittings, 
on  as  many  consecutive  days,  all  that  was  necessary 
to  be  done  from  the  life  was  accomplished.  The  like- 
ness was  a great  success. 

The  Edinburgh  artists  would  have  been  glad  could 
they  have  given  their  eminent  brother  painter  a public 
reception,  but  some  of  them  were  from  home  at  that  time, 
and  Cox’s  health  would  not  have  permitted  him  to 
gratify  their  desire.  Calls  were  made  on  Thomas  Faed, 
R.A.,  Mr.  D.  0.  Hill,  secretary  of  the  Scottish 
Academy,  and  one  or  two  others  ; and  an  invitation  to 


172 


DAVID  COX. 


dine  with  Sir  John  Gordon  at  his  residence  near  New- 
haven  was  accepted.  The  host  being  a bachelor,  his 
sister,  Miss  Watson,  received  his  guests,  and  Mr. 
Watson,  a relative  of  Sir  John,  was  of  the  party.  The 
dining-room  contained  a number  of  Sir  John’s  works, 
mostly  figure  and  subject  pictures,  which  it  was  con- 
jectured had  been  exhibited  and  had  not  sold.  The 
artist  had  commenced  his  career  by  painting  pictures  of 
this  description,  but  want  of  success  compelled  him  to 
turn  his  attention  to  portraiture.  And  even  as  a 
portrait  painter,  notwithstanding  his  great  ability,  it 
was  long  before  he  became  eminent  in  Scotland,  his 
own  countrymen  (as  he  informed  his  guests)  thinking 
little  of  his  skill  until  after  he  had  been  elected  into  the 
Royal  Academy  of  England  ! After  dinner  the  party 
were  shown  over  Sir  John’s  workshop,  at  the  bottom 
of  his  garden,  containing  a carpenter’s  bench,  and  all 
the  requisite  tools  for  making  stretchers  for  his  pictures. 
His  canvases  were  also  prepared  on  the  premises — Mr. 
Watson  being  his  assistant  in  the  work.  It  may  be 
mentioned  here  that  it  was  not  canvas,  as  generally 
used,  on  which  Sir  John  painted,  but  Scotch  sheeting, 
which  he  preferred.  The  portrait  of  David  Cox  was 
painted  on  this  material. 

When  this  portrait  was  in  progress,  the  artist  was 
also  engaged  on  the  picture  of  another  sitter,  who  was 
Custodian  of  the  “ Register  of  Marriages,”  belonging 
to  one  of  the  old  Edinburgh  churches,  and  who 
wished  this  book  to  be  introduced  into  his  picture. 
This  volume  was  shown  to  Cox  and  his  friends  by  Sir 


PRESENTATION  OF  HIS  PORTRAIT : 1855. 


173 


John;  and  it  may  be  interesting  to  some  to  know 
that  in  it  they  read — still  legible — the  register  of  the 
marriage  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  with  Darnley  ! 

At  the  expiration  of  a week,  Cox’s  portrait  having 
been  nearly  finished,  the  little  party  bade  adieu  to 
Scotland,  and  returned  on  their  homeward  journey, 
staying  a short  time,  to  rest,  at  the  pretty  cottage  of 
their  friend  Mr.  E.  G.  Eeeves,  at  Bolton-le-Sands.  The 
portrait  was  exhibited  the  following  season  at  the  Eoyal 
Academy  in  London,  where  it  excited  much  attention, 
and  was  afterwards  engraved  in  mezzotint,  in  the  finest 
manner,  by  Samuel  Beilin,  who,  from  his  admiration 
of  Cox,  charged  a merely  nominal  sum  for  his  work  ; 
and  a copy  of  the  print  was  presented  to  each  subscriber 
to  the  picture. 

The  ceremony  of  the  presentation  of  the  portrait 
to  David  Cox  took  place  on  Monday,  19th  of  November, 
1855.  Mr.  Charles  Birch,  chairman  of  the  Portrait 
Committee,  and  the  artist’s  old  and  particular  friend, 
issued  invitations  to  a number  of  the  subscribers,  and 
others  interested  in  the  event,  to  assemble  at  his  resi- 
dence, Metchley  Abbey,  Harborne,  to  witness  the  pro- 
ceedings. A large  party  met  together  in  the  Picture 
Gallery  of  the  Abbey  to  do  honour  to  Cox,  and  justice 
to  the  good  things  which  their  host  had  placed  on  his 
hospitable  board.  Around  the  walls  hung  many  works 
of  art  of  high  character  by  the  most  eminent  painters  of 
the  day — Turner,  and  Leslie,  and  Etty,  and  Constable, 
and  many  others,  including  charming  pictures  by  Cox 
himself,  of  whose  genius  Mr.  Birch  was  one  of  the 


174 


DAVID  COX. 


earliest  and  most  devoted  among  many  worshippers. 
The  portrait,  snrmonnted  with  festoons  of  laurel,  was 
placed  at  the  bottom  of  the  room  ; and  a pleasant  sight 
it  was  to  behold  the  long  rows  of  guests  assembled  to 
pay  honour  to  their  old  friend,  who  was  seated  at  the 
right  hand  of  Mr.  Birch,  and  who,  though  gratified  at 
this  recognition  of  his  merits,  was  nevertheless  in  a state 
of  nervous  trepidation,  wondering  how  he  should  get 
through  the  trying  ordeal  before  him.  So  soon  as  the 
table  was  cleared,  the  host  rose  to  make  a formal  pre- 
sentation of  the  portrait  to  his  distinguished  guest. 
This  he  did  with  admirable  taste  and  feeling,  alluding  to 
Cox’s  early  struggles  for  fame,  the  high  position  he  had 
now  attained,  and  his  many  excellent  qualities  as  a man, 
rendering  him  in  every  way  worthy  of  the  honour  about 
to  be  conferred.  The  honorary  secretary,  Mr.  John 
Jaffray,  then  read  an  address  to  Mr.  Cox,  which  he  had 
written  for  the  purpose,  and  which  was  afterwards  pre- 
fixed to  a small  volume  containing  the  autographs  of 
upwards  of  a hundred  of  the  subscribers,  and  which 
was  also  presented  to  Cox  : — 

To  Mr.  David  Cox. 

Dear  Sir, — Several  old  friends,  who  for  many  years  have  en- 
joyed the  pleasure  of  intimate  communion  with  you,  and  a few 
others  who  only  know  you  by  your  professional  works,  having  a 
desire  to  express  to  you  their  admiration  of  your  genius  and  their 
respect  for  your  private  character,  have  entered  into  a subscription, 
the  result  of  which  is  the  portrait  now  presented  to  you  in  the  names 
of  the  subscribers. 

In  thus  expressing  their  feelings  they  were  also  influenced  by  the 
desire  of  preserving  in  your  native  town  a memorial  of  one  who 
already  holds  a high  place  in  the  estimation  of  all  who  can 
distinguish  between  the  meretricious  and  true  in  art,  and  who  will 


ADDRESS  PRESENTED  TO  HIM. 


175 


yet  be  held  in  higher  repute  as  an  able  teacher  in  a genial,  manly 
school  of  landscape-painting.  For,  disregarding  the  mere  outward 
prettiness  of  Nature,  you  seized  the  true  essence  of  her  grandeur,  and 
the  spirit  of  her  beauty,  and  became  her  faithful  and  therefore  her 
famous  exponent. 

It  has  been  said  of  those  who  patiently  and  with  a single  mind 
love  Virtue  for  her  own  sake,  that  the  very  act  of  self-denial  is 
happiness.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  patient,  modest,  unselfish 
student  of  Nature.  To  him  she  reveals  her  secrets  and  lays  bare  her 
beauty  ; the  very  act  of  self-sacrifice  is  the  passport  to  fame. 

Such  we  believe  to  be  the  spirit  in  which  you  entered  upon  and 
pursued  your  half-century  of  study.  Beginning  in  a humble  way, 
neither  aided  by  patronage,  nor  buoyed  up  by  applause,  you  have 
won  a high  place  amongst  contemporary  artists,  have  made  your  name 
famous  in  many  lands,  and,  better  still,  have  surrounded  your  de- 
clining years  with  troops  of  friends  who  not  only  admire  your  genius^ 
but  reverence  and  love  you.  To  the  man  as  well  as  to  the  artist  we 
offer  this  mark  of  respect. 

Like  many  who  have  climbed  to  the  highest  pinnacles  of  fame, 
you  tasted  adversity.  In  the  two  extremes  you  have  shown  the 
same  high  qualities  of  mind  ; bearing  obscurity  with  manly  fortitude, 
and,  what  is  still  more  difficult,  acquiring  fame  without  losing  the 
simplicity  of  your  character.  These  are  rare  qualities  always,  very 
rare  in  an  age  of  showy  accomplishment  and  restless  action,  and  by 
preserving  in  some  public  building  in  your  native  town  this  record 
of  you — a record  as  true  and  unaffected  as  the  man  it  represents — we 
seek  to  perpetuate  the  example  of  your  private  virtues  as  well  as  the 
remembrance  of  your  professional  fame. 

Accept  then,  dear  sir,  this  expression  of  the  admiration  and  love 
of  your  friends  ; and  they  are  sure  that  you  will  value  the  gift  more 
highly  as  being  the  work  of  an  artist  kindred  to  yourself  in  spirit, 
who  in  a different  walk  of  art  has  won  an  honourable  reputation, 
and  who  by  this  portrait  has  added  another  to  the  list  of  his  pro- 
fessional successes. 

We  fervently  hope  that  you  may  long  be  spared  to  wear  the 
laurels  you  have  so  well  won,  to  give  more  evidence  of  the  unabated 
freshness  of  your  thoughts  and  the  vigour  of  your  pencil,  and  to 
enjoy  the  serene  repose  of  a virtuous  and  honoured  old  age. 

Birmingham , November  19^4,  1855. 


176 


DAVID  COX. 


Poor  Cox,  broken  down  in  health  as  he  was,  and 
very  feeble,  was  unable  to  respond  to  this  address,  or  to 
return  thanks  in  words.  This  duty  was  discharged 
by  deputy;  and  on  the  conclusion  of  the  few  words 
uttered  in  his  behalf  by  his  friend  and  medical  adviser, 
Dr.  Bell  Fletcher,  he  rose  from  his  seat,  and  (all  he 
could  do)  approved  what  bad  been  said  writh  a silent 
bow.  Shortly  afterwards  he  wished  his  friends  good 
night — the  hour  growing  late,  for  him- — and  went  home, 
tenderly  attended  by  his  old  friend  and  fellow-artist, 
Mr.  C.  W.  Badclyffe,  to  partake  of  his  simple  supper  of 
bread  and  milk. 

Until  the  death  of  David  Cox,  this  portrait  hung  in 
his  sitting-room — the  counterpart  of  himself.  After  his 
death  it  was  handed  over,  for  safe  keeping,  to  the 
Birmingham  and  Midland  Institute ; and  it  is  now 
adorning  the  Fine  Art  Gallery  belonging  to  the  town. 
The  engraved  plate,  after  the  requisite  number  of 
impressions  had  been  taken  from  it,  was  given  to  Mr. 
Cox,  to  be  bequeathed  to  his  son,  who  now  possesses  it. 
A memorial  bust,  in  marble,  executed  by  Mr.  Peter 
Hollins,  of  Birmingham,  was  also  subscribed  for  some 
time  after  the  death  of  Cox,  and  is  an  excellent  likeness 
of  the  old  man  in  his  last  days.  This  is  likewise  placed 
in  the  town  gallery.  In  1874,  a few  loving  friends 
subscribed  a sum  of  money  to  place  a memorial  window 
in  the  old  church  at  Harborne,  where  the  painter 
worshipped. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


1858—9. 

Last  Visit  to  London,  and  to  Bettws-y-coed — Illness  and  Death — Funeral  in 
Harborne  Churchyard — Memorial  Window  in  the  Church. 

It  has  already  been  mentioned  that  when  the  portrait 
painted  by  Sir  J.  W.  Gordon  came  from  the  hands  of 
the  engraver,  it  was  delivered  to  Cox,  to  he  retained 
by  him  during  his  life,  agreeably  to  the  decision 
of  the  committee ; afterwards  to  be  permanently 
placed  in  a public  institution  in  Birmingham.  Cox 
was,  of  course,  well  pleased  to  have  it  in  his  possession, 
and  to  see  it  hanging  in  his  sitting-room  as  long  as  he 
could  take  care  of  it;  but  he  felt  nevertheless  that  he 
was  only  a trustee  for  others,  who  were  soon  to  take 
charge  of  it,  and  that  the  picture  was,  after  all,  not  his 
own.  He  would  have  been  better  satisfied  if  it  had 
been  given  to  him  to  deal  with  as  he  thought  fit ; in 
that  case  it  would  undoubtedly  have  been  bequeathed  to 
his  son.  He  often  said  to  his  friends,  “ Oh,  I wish 
David  could  have  had  this  portrait ! ” But  he  was 
determined  that  his  son  should  have  a portrait  of  him, 
and  that  by  an  artist  eminent  in  his  profession.  Ac- 
cordingly, on  visiting  London,  in  the  summer  of  1856 
— the  year  following  that  in  which  the  Gordon  portrait 
was  painted — he  arranged  to  sit  to  Mr.  Boxall,  whose 
portraits  were  much  admired,  and  who  was  delighted  to 

M 


178 


DAVID  COX. 


have  the  opportunity  of  painting  so  distinguished  an 
artist  as  David  Cox.  This  picture,  when  finished,  was 
presented  to  Mr.  David  Cox,  jun.,  who  treasures  it  with 
affectionate  care.  It  has  not  been  considered  so  good  a 
likeness  of  the  old  man  as  the  portrait  by  Gordon. 
There  is  in  the  expression  a suddenly-awakened  spasm 
$>f  intelligence,  which  is  not  happy,  and  is  unlike  the 
usual  expression  seen  on  the  face  of  Cox,  which  was 
always  intelligent,  sometimes  suggesting  an  acute 
penetration,  but  never  a waking-up  of  the  intellect  in  a 
sudden  and  spasmodic  manner.  Mr.  Boxall  no  doubt 
was  anxious  to  make  his  sitter  look  like  the  man  of 
genius  that  he  was,  but  in  the  attempt  he  rather  forced 
the  expression. 

The  winter  of  1855  and  the  spring-time  of  1856 
came  and  went  and  still  found  David  Cox  at  work,  pro- 
ducing both  pictures  in  oil  and  water-colour  drawings 
of  varying  excellence,  some  of  them  exhibiting  quali- 
ties of  a high  order,  but  many  showing  proofs  of 
declining  powers  and  physical  weakness.  He  con- 
tributed a number  of  works,  as  usual,  to  the  exhibition 
of  his  society,  and  surprised  his  friends,  who  knew  of 
his  failing  health,  by  the  display  of  flashes  of  genius 
manifest  in  productions  which,  they  feared,  would  be 
his  last.  The  hand  of  the  old  veteran  was  evidently 
trembling  and  unsteady,  but  his  spirit  retained  much 
of  its  fire,  and  its  conceptions  were  still  marked  by 
poetry  and  beauty,  as  in  days  gone  by. 

On  the  approach  of  the  autumn  of  1856,  after  his  re- 
turn from  London,  where  he  went  to  sit  to  Mr.  Boxall, 


LAST  VISIT  TO  BETTWS : 1856. 


179 


and  to  see  the  exhibitions,  Cox  began  to  meditate  another- 
visit  to  his  dear  Bettws-y-coed,  longing  for  a fond,  per- 
haps farewell  look  at  the  favourite  spot.  Although 
dreading  the  fatigue  of  the  journey,  he  plucked  up 
courage,  and  started  for  Wales  and  his  beloved  haunts ; 
glad  to  find  himself  once  again  taking  up  his  quarters 
at  the  old  farm-house.  This  was  his  last  visit  to 
Bettws.  He  was  too  feeble  to  do  more  than  make  a 
few  slight  sketches,  and  to  saunter  about  in  the 
beautiful  scenery,  inhaling  with  keen  relish  the  pure 
mountain  air.  He  returned  to  Harborne  the  better  for 
his  trip,  but  by  no  means  restored  to  his  former  state  of 
health,  .Nevertheless,  he  set  to  work,  as  usual,  and 
began  to  get  ready  drawings  for  the  ensuing  exhibition. 
During  the  winter  he  was  not  so  well;  his  feebleness 
increased ; his  sight  was  not  so  good,  and  sometimes  it 
failed  so  much  that  he  could  hardly  tell  when  his  pencil 
touched  the  paper.  This  made  his  work  appear  blurred 
and  the  manipulation  quite  wanting  in  precision  and 
firmness.  The  drawing  of  his  figures,  or  of  any  other 
definite  objects,  was  loose  and  inaccurate.  Feebleness 
was  manifest  in  all  he  did,  and  he  felt  that  he  should 
not  long  be  able  to  paint,  even  for  occupation  and 
amusement.  Still  lie  continued  to  make  efforts,  and 
took  up  some  of  his  old  sketches  to  finish  for  the  ex- 
hibition of  1857.  The  author  remembers  well  the 
“ council  ” held  on  this  occasion,  to  discuss  what  sub- 
jects should  be  determined  on.  The  fine  sketch  of 
“ Gordal  Scar”  had  long  remained  in  Cox’s  portfolio  in 
the  state  he  left  it  in  when  it  was  first  made  ; every  one 


180 


DAVID  COX. 


admired  it ; Cox  himself  had  always  thought  well  of  it ; 
hut  still  he  had  never  completed  or  used  it.  But  now 
he  was  persuaded  to  take  the  sketch  up  and  finish  it, 
for  the  coming  exhibition,  and  it  was  one  of  his  most 
important  contributions  of  that  year.  His  final  visit 
to  London,  to  see  his  son,  and  take  a look  at  the  Royal 
Academy  and  Water-Colour  exhibitions,  was  made  at 
the  beginning  of  the  summer  of  1857.  Whilst  there 
he  was  seized  with  an  illness  which  compelled  him  to 
seek  medical  assistance,  but  he  recovered  sufficiently  in 
a short  time  to  be  able  to  return  home,  and  ere  long  set 
to  work  again  with  renewed  spirit.  He  even  meditated 
another  journey  into  Wales,  but  the  weather  proving 
unfavourable,  he  gave  up  the  idea,  consoling  himself 
for  the  disappointment  by  buckling  to  work  with  a 
spurt  of  energy  that  carried  him  through  the  labour  of 
producing  several  oil  pictures,  and  a number  of  draw- 
ings for  the  exhibition  of  1858.  These  latter  contri- 
butions to  the  Pall  Mall  Gallery  were  much  admired, 
but  of  course  they  were  not  entirely  the  productions  of 
his  last  days.  Probably  the  finishing  touches  only  were 
given  to  them  during  the  few  preceding  months. 

Cox  did  not  stir  from  home  throughout  the  year  1858, 
except  for  short  walks  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Har- 
borne,  or  an  occasional  stroll  into  Birmingham  to  see 
friends,  or  do  little  marketings  for  the  sake  of  doing 
something.  Towards  Christmas  he  was  again  very 
unwell.  He  had  taken  a severe  cold,  and  it  was  pain- 
fully apparent  to  his  friends  and  those  about  him  that 
the  end  of  his  life  was  fast  approaching.  He  daily 


LAST  ILLNESS  AND  DEATH. 


181 


became  more  feeble  and  infirm,  and  often  bad  extreme 
difficulty  in  bolding  up  until  bedtime.  He  complained 
frequently  of  pain  in  bis  limbs,  and  towards  ten  o’clock 
in  the  evening  would  say,  “ Ob,  my  poor  legs ! bow 
they  do  aclie ! I should  like  to  go  to  bed.”  It  was 
then  time  for  those  who  bad  called  to  see  him  to  take 
their  departure,  which  they  usually  did  forthwith,  sorry 
to  see  their  old  friend  so  distressed.  But  he  never 
showed  displeasure  if  they  lingered  a few  moments  to 
say  a parting  word  after  the  hint  had  been  given.  His 
kindness  of  heart  did  not  desert  him,  although  weary 
and  worn  out.  He  was  to  the  last  a gentleman. 

The  year  1859  opened  with  gloom  for  Cox  and  for 
his  household.  His  illness  increased  in  severity,  and 
through  the  entire  month  of  January  his  life  was  in 
danger.  But  again  he  recovered,  and  was  able  in  a 
few  weeks  to  come  down-stairs,  and  resume  his  customary 
occupation.  Again  he  completed  a number  of  drawings 
for  the  exhibition  of  that  year,  but,  sad  to  say,  they 
were  the  last  he  was  ever  to  send.  He  caught  another 
cold  soon  after  he  had  dispatched  them  to  London, 
which  left  him  weaker  than  before,  and  although  for  a 
short  time  he  became  better,  still  the  improvement  did 
not  last  long.  At  the  beginning  of  June,  he  was  once 
more  prostrate.  Before  taking  to  his  bed,  and  on 
retiring  one  evening  earlier  than  usual,  quite  worn  out 
with  pain  and  weariness,  he  seems  to  have  had  a pre- 
sentiment that  his  end  was  at  hand,  for  on  looking 
round  his  old  sitting-room,  as  he  went  out  at  the  door, 
he  said,  mournfully,  “ Good-bye,  pictures  ! ” He  never 


182 


DAVID  COX. 


saw  them  again.  In  a few  days  he  became  decidedly 
worse,  and  on  the  7th  of  the  month,  in  the  77th  year 
of  his  age,  he  expired  quite  tranquilly,  in  the  presence 
of  his  son  and  the  sorrowing  members  of  his  household. 
His  last  words  were,  “ God  bless  you  all ! ” 

On  the  14th  of  June,  seven  days  after  his  death,  a 
large  number  of  friends  and  neighbours  assembled  at  and 
near  Greenfield  House,  to  follow  the  great  artist  to  his 
grave  in  Harhorne  Churchyard.  A deep  gloom  seemed 
to  overshadow  all  present.  The  day  was  fine,  hut  the 
sun  had  lost  its  cheering  influence,  and  shone  in  vain. 
It  could  not  smile  away  the  sadness  that  was  in  every 
heart.  Friends  — attached  friends  — who  had  often 
visited  at  that  house,  and  always  with  delight,  felt  that 
they  had  entered  it  for  the  last  time ; and  poor  neigh- 
bours, who  stood  about  the  gate  and  in  the  road,  silent 
but  sorrowing  spectators  of  the  scene,  knew  that  death 
had  taken  from  them  one  who  had  always  been  kind  to 
them  in  affliction,  and  helpful  in  their  needs.  As  the 
melancholy  procession  passed  along  on  its  way  to  the 
grave,  many  a sigh  was  heaved,  and  many  an  apron 
was  lifted  to  the  eyes,  in  the  cottage-homes  of  those 
who  for  years  had  known  and  respected  their  old  neigh- 
bour and  friend  David  Cox. 

The  gentlemen  who  bore  up  the  pall  were  the 
deceased's  intimate  friends,  one  or  two  among  his  oldest 
and  most  attached  associates  — Messrs.  Boberts  and 
Birch,  Darby  and  Ellis,  Bullock  and  Betts,  Hollings- 
worth, and  the  author  of  this  Memoir.  Mr.  Frederick 
Tayler,  President  of  the  Old  Water-Colour  Society, 


FUNERAL  AT  BARBORNE. 


183 


deputed  to  represent  that  body,  and  Mr.  Peter  Hollins, 
Vice-President  of  the  Birmingham  Society  of  Artists, 
with  many  of  its  members,  besides  a large  gathering  of 
friends  and  admirers  of  David  Cox,  followed  in  procession 
to  the  grave.  Mrs.  Cox  had  been  buried  in  Harbome 
Churchyard  fourteen  years  before,  and  in  the  same 
grave  were  reverently  and  lovingly  laid  the  remains  of 
him  who  now  was  borne  to  mingle  his  dust  with  hers. 
They  sleep  together  under  the  branches  of  a noble 
spreading  tree,  that  flecks  the  grey  stone  with  shade, 
and  keeps  the  bordering  greensward  fresh  and  fair. 

That  David  Cox,  as  a man,  was  esteemed  and 
beloved  by  all  who  knew  him  intimately,  the  sur- 
viving friends  who  still  mourn  his  loss  can  abundantly 
testify.  He  was  kind  to  such  as  stood  in  need  of 
assistance,  especially  to  those  who  dwelt  in  his  imme- 
diate neighbourhood.  He  was  very  kind  to  his  servants, 
and  in  every  way  considerate  of  their  comfort ; and,  in 
return,  they  were  at  all  times  ready  to  wait  on  him  hand 
and  foot.  He  gave  them  many  little  drawings  as 
keepsakes,  which  they  treasured  long,  as  memorials  of 
their  dear  old  master.  To  Ann  Fowler,  once  his 
servant,  but  latterly  his  housekeeper,  who  had  lived 
with  him  from  a girl,  he  bequeathed  the  sum  of  £500, 
and  left  her  in  the  care  of  his  son,  to  be  watched  over 
by  him  in  her  old  age.  To  all  his  friends  he  was  espe- 
cially kind ; was  ever  delighted  to  see  them  under  his 
roof,  to  drink  tea  with  him  when  he  had  finished  work 
for  the  day,  or  to  partake  of  a simple  supper.  He  made 
many  presents  of  drawings  to  them,  which  were  highly 


184 


DAVID  COX . 


valued,  alike  for  their  merit  and  their  association.  His 
young  lady  friends,  in  particular,  shared  his  bounty  to 
a large  extent,  their  scrap-hooks  being  enriched  by 
frequent  contributions  from  his  pencil.  In  fact,  he 
appears  to  have  scattered  these  gifts  broadcast  among 
such  as  were  kind  to  him,  and  for  whom  he  enter- 
tained feelings  of  affectionate  regard.  To  one  or  two 
old  friends  he  bequeathed  drawings  of  importance  and 
value.  To  the  curate  of  Harborne  Church,  who  had 
been  very  attentive  to  Mrs.  Cox  in  her  last  illness,  he 
presented  a beautiful  drawing  of  Bolton  Abbey.  It 
is  now  the  property  of  Mr.  George  Graham,  of  Bir- 
mingham. To  his  medical  attendants,  who  frequently 
visited  him  when  unwell,  and  to  whom  he  felt  grateful 
for  relief  afforded  him,  he  gave  a number  of  his  pro- 
ductions, which  he  insisted  on  their  accepting.  To 
all  his  artist  friends  he  was  very  communicative  and 
very  kind.  He  had  no  professional  secrets,  no  pro- 
fessional jealousy,  and  gladly  told  them  all  he  knew- 
He  gave  them  valuable  advice  as  to  the  treatment 
of  their  works  in  hand,  and  showed  them  how  to  mix 
their  tints,  or  helped  them  over  a difficult  part.  He 
has  been  known,  when  at  Bettws,  to  half-complete  a 
picture  by  some  amateur  or  young  artist  who  could 
not  master  the  difficulties  of  his  task.  Many  and  warm 
were  the  words  of  encouragement  he  gave  to  such  as 
did  well.  “ Paint  away  ! ” he  has  said.  “ Stick  to  it ! 
you’ll  do  ! How  nicely  you  have  painted  those  trees  ! 
How  did  you  make  the  colour?  I could  not  have 
painted  them  so  well ! ” And  he  has  praised  the 


HIS  KINDLY  FEELING. 


185 


young  artist  in  no  measured  terms  to  all  he  encoun- 
tered. By  very  many  kind  acts  and  words  of  a similar 
description  did  David  Cox  win  the  esteem  and  affec- 
tion of  brother  artists  with  whom  he  came  in  contact. 
Falling  in,  one  day,  at  Bettws,  with  a young  aspirant 
for  fame  who  was  hut  slightly  known  to  him,  and  who 
appeared  to  have  been  working  most  industriously,  and 
was  regretting  that  he  was  compelled  to  return  home 
sooner  than  he  wished,  it  occurred  to  Cox  that  it 
might  he  owing  to  the  young  man’s  means  falling 
short  that  he  was  obliged  to  leave  forthwith.  Accord- 
ingly an  opportunity  was  found  for  ascertaining  the 
fact,  and  Cox  intimated  that  if  such  were  the  case 
he  should  he  happy  to  advance  a little  money,  to 
enable  one  who  had  worked  so  well  to  make  a few 
more  sketches  from  nature.  Whether  the  kind  offer 
was  accepted  the  author  knows  not ; hut  doubtless 
David  Cox’s  consideration  and  kindly  feeling  left  on  the 
young  artist’s  mind  an  impression  that  was  not  readily 
effaced;  and  should  he  he  living  now,  and  have  at- 
tained to  eminence  in  his  profession,  he  will  not  fail 
to  cherish  pleasant  recollections  of  the  veteran  “ brother 
of  the  brush,”  who  stepped  forward  to  aid  him  at  the 
early  period  off  his  career.  To  an  artist  friend  who 
wished  to  buy  one  of  his  small  pictures,  and  who  tendered 
the  usual  price  for  a work  of  the  size,  he  insisted 
on  returning  a sovereign,  saying,  “the  sum  was  too 
much  for  so  small  a picture.”  On  the  friend  objecting 
to  receive  the  money,  Cox  thrust  it  forcibly  into  his 
waistcoat  pocket,  saying,  “ If  you  are  too  proud  to  take 


186 


DAVID  COX. 


it  for  yourself,  give  it  to  your  little  son  as  a fairing- 
present  from  me  [it  was  then  fair-time  in  Birmingham], 
and  tell  him  to  go  and  see  the  wild-beast  show,  and  I 
hope  he  will  enjoy  it.”  To  the  poor  people  who 
resided  near  him  (as  has  been  said)  he  was  exceedingly 
kind,  particularly  if  they  were  sick  or  out  of  employ- 
ment, and  frequently  gave  them  benefactions  to  relieve 
their  necessities.  The  minister  of  his  church  has  told 
me  that  when  visiting  the  sick  poor  of  the  parish  he 
has  often  discovered,  to  his  surprise,  that  Mr.  Cox 
had  preceded  him,  and  had  left  behind  tokens  of  com- 
miseration and  sympathy  much  needed  and  grate- 
fully received.  No  wonder  that  he  was  endeared  to 
many,  and  that  his  death  was  felt  to  be  a great  mis- 
fortune by  all  who  knew  him. 

David  Cox,  although  not  what  some  would  term  an 
“ eminently  pious  ” man,  was  a devout  Churchman,  and 
always  evinced  great  respect  for  religious  observances, 
and,  if  the  weather  were  not  too  unfavourable,  made  it 
a point  of  duty  to  attend  church  on  the  Sabbath,  at 
home  or  abroad.  When  at  Bettws,  if  the  service  were 
in  Welsh  (as  was  sometimes  the  case),  he  would  bespeak 
a vehicle  to  take  him  to  Llanrwst,  a distance  of  four 
miles ; and  the  author  has  more  than  once  accompanied 
him  there.  On  those  occasions  he  was  grave  and 
serious,  and  appeared  to  have  laid  aside  for  the  day  all 
light  thoughts  and  professional  considerations.  He 
never,  whilst  the  author  was  acquainted  with  him, 
painted  on  Sundays,  as  some  artists  are  in  the  habit  of 
doing ; but,  if  confined  to  the  house  by  indisposition  or 


HIS  RELIGIOUS  CHARACTER. 


187 


bad  weather,  devoted  some  portion  of  the  day  to  reading 
the  Prayer-book  and  the  Bible.  The  writer  nsed  fre- 
quently to  visit  him  on  Sunday  evenings,  during  the 
last  years  of  his  life ; and  these  visits  were  looked  for  as 
a customary  thing,  unless  the  weather  were  too  bad  for 
a walk.  In  that  case,  and  if  he  thought  no  friends 
were  likely  to  drop  in,  he  would  take  down  the  large 
Bible,  and  devote  the  evening  to  a serious,  attentive 
perusal  of  its  contents.  Occasionally  the  well-known 
knock  at  the  door  has  disturbed  him  in  the  midst 
of  his  reading,  when  the  spectacles  were  put  down, 
and  the  Bible  laid  aside,  with  a marker  carefully 
placed  between  the  leaves,  to  show  him  where  he 
had  left  off.  Nearly  every  Sunday  morning  when 
at  home,  as  regularly  as  the  day  came  round,  his 
venerable  grey  head  might  have  been  seen  above 
the  top  of  his  pew  in  Harborne  Church,  devoutly 
bent  in  prayer,  or  gazing  attentively  at  the  preacher, 
whose  words  imparted  comfort  and  consolation.  Not 
many  of  the  worshippers  who  beheld  him  in  his  accus- 
tomed place  looked  upon  him  as  the  man  of  genius, 
whose  name  and  fame  in  a few  short  years  would  be 
blazoned  from  end  to  end  of  the  land  of  his  birth.  He 
was  familiar  to  them  only  as  homely,  unpretending  Mr. 
Cox,  their  mucli-respected  friend  and  neighbour,  who 
earned  his  living  by  painting  pictures  which  some 
people  said  were  not  destitute  of  merit.  The  day  of  his 
renown  was  not  there  nor  then ; nor  did  his  coming  in 
or  going  out  attract  unusual  notice.  He  went  his  way 
between  the  graves  of  the  old  churchyard,  among  which 


188 


DAVID  COX. 


he  was  one  day  to  rest,  as  an  ordinary  member  of  the 
congregation,  and  no  one  dreamt  of  looking  after  him 
to  see  what  manner  of  man  he  was.  He  is  seen  no 
more  in  the  old  church;  his  place  has  long  since  been 
occupied  by  another;  hut,  although  departed,  he  is 
not  forgotten.  The  Sabbath  sun  shines  in  through  a 
beautiful  window,  which  loving  friends  have  erected 
there  as  a memorial  of  him;  and  when  the  eyes  of 
those  assembled  within  the  sacred  temple  gaze  upon  its 
harmonious  colours  and  fine  design,  the  old  man  who 
was  once  their  fellow- worshipper  is  recalled  to  memory. 
The  following  description  of  this  window  is  extracted 
from  The  Birmingham  Daily  Post  of  April  1st,  1874  : — 

It  was  a happy  thought  which  prompted  the  placing  of  a stained 
glass  window  in  the  parish  church  of  Harborne,  as  a memorial  to  the 
genius  of  our  great  water-colour  painter,  David  Cox.  Passing  the 
later  years  of  his  life  at  Harborne,  and  that,  too,  in  close  proximity 
to  the  old  church,  this  artist  has  simply  lifted  this  neighbourhood  out 
of  the  dull  level  of  villa  suburbanism ; and  for  this  alone  even  Har- 
borne should  show  some  gratitude.  The  good  intentions  of  those  who 
pleasingly  recognised  this  claim  have  been  greatly  promoted  by 
Messrs.  Hardman  and  Co.,  of  this  town,  to  whom  the  commission  to 
execute  the  memorial  window  was  entrusted.  The  strong  love  of 
nature,  the  looking  through  nature  up  to  nature’s  God,  is  the  simple 
object  portrayed,  and  how  successfully  this  has  been  done  a mere 
glance  at  the  window,  now  completed,  fully  proves.  The  centre  of 
the  window  contains  within  a circle,  which  is  banded  in  its  upper 
part  by  a rainbow,  the  scene  of  the  Creation,  in  which  Adam  views 
the  marvellous  works  of  nature  in  the  infinite  varieties  of  life  revealed 
to  him.  In  the  upper  half  of  the  window  appear  two  vesica-shaped 
spaces,  in  which  “ Spring  ” and  “ Summer  ” are  respectively  painted, 
the  former  flinging  blossoms  to  the  earth,  whilst  the  latter  is  seated 
amidst  a luxuriant  growth  of  flowers.  Corresponding  to  these  are 
“ Autumn,”  with  her  wreath  of  ripe  corn  and  fruits,  and  “ Winter,” 


MEMORIAL  WINDOW  AT  EARBORNE. 


189 


whose  darkly- wrapped  figure  stands  well  out  against  the  bare  branches 
and  snow-mantled  ground.  Bands,  which  surround  and  interlace  the 
whole  of  the  design,  bear  texts  from  the  Psalms,  bearing  upon  the 
subject  of  the  glory  of  God,  as  exemplified  in  the  works  of  nature. 
It  is  scarcely  too  much  to  say  that  this  window  is  one  of  the  most 
successful  works  which  Messrs.  Hardman  have  executed.  To  Mr. 
John  Powell,  who  has  in  this  paid  a tribute  to  the  genius  of  a great 
artist,  the  design  of  the  memorial  is  due. 

Beneath  the  window  is  the  following  inscription : — 

To  the  Glory  of  God,  and  in  Memory  of  David  Cox,  Artist, 
this  Window  was  erected  by  a few  Friends,  a.d.  1874. 


CHAPTER  XV, 

Cox’s  Characteristics  as  a Man— Interior  of  His  House — Dress  and  Appearance. 


The  simplicity  of  the  life  and  character  of  David 
Cox  was  as  remarkable  as  anything  by  which  he  was 
distinguished.  There  was  nothing  about  him  that 
might  be  called  showy,  in  person,  manner,  or  sur- 
roundings. In  all  his  ways  he  was  artless  and  simple 
as  a child.  In  person  he  was  ever  scrupulously  clean 
and  neat  ; in  dress  plain  and  unpretending.  When  at 
home  he  generally  wore  a grey  suit,  resembling  his 
sketching-costume  ; and  when  he  went  out,  to  dine  with 
a friend,  or  to  make  calls  in  town,  he  put  on  a black 
frock-coat,  black  velvet  waistcoat  (except  in  the  height 
of  summer,  when  he  wore  a light  and  thinner  one),  and 
grey  trousers  ; it  is  this  dress  which  figures  in  the  por-‘ 
trait  of  him  by  Sir  J.  W.  Gordon.  He  invariably  wore 
shoes,  for  ease  and  comfort,  during  the  time  the  author 
was  acquainted  with  him.  His  house  was  plainly  fur- 
nished. In  his  usual  sitting-room  were  a carved  oak 
sideboard  and  a sofa,  but  nothing  luxurious  or  meant  for 
display.  There  were  no  lounging-chairs,  or  anything  to 
suggest  effeminacy,  or  a love  of  present  ease  and 
indulgence.  To  the  day  of  his  death  he  never  would 
have  any  but  cane-seated  chairs,  such  as  are  used  in  bed- 
rooms, but  rarely  in  living  apartments  ; and  these  were 


HIS  HOUSE:  A STRANGE  OFFER. 


191 


not  cushioned,  and  were  felt  by  his  friends  to  be  rather 
hard  and  rigid,  especially  after  a long  walk.  There  has 
been  a story  told  of  some  person — a dealer  in  antique 
furniture,  known  to  Cox — who  calling  one  day  upon  him, 
affected  to  be  much  shocked  at  the  uncomfortable  char- 
acter of  these  chairs,  and  proposed  to  lend  for  his 
use  half  a dozen  old  carved  chairs,  which  he  described  as 
being  artistic,  and  very  fine  things  of  their  kind,  having 
soft  crimson  velvet  cushions,  very  elegant  to  look  at,  and 
particularly  comfortable  for  an  elderly  person  to  sit  or 
recline  in.  The  manner  in  which  the  loan  is  said  to 
have  been  proposed  was  rather  calculated  to  shake  the 
nerves  and  disturb  the  serenity  of  Cox.  “ Dear  me  ! 55 
said  this  visitor,  “ how  uncomfortable  it  must  be  for  you 
to  sit  always  on  these  hard  cane-seated  chairs  ! I feel 
quite  sorry  for  you.  Do  allow  me  to  lend  you  some 
fine  old  carved  chairs — very  fine  chairs  indeed — at  least 
two  hundred  years  old  ! They  have  a coat-of-arms  at 
the  backs  beautifully  carved,  and  must  have  belonged 
to  one  of  the  old  nobility.  They  would  be  quite  in 
character  in  an  artist’s  room  ; you  would  find  them 
extremely  comfortable  ; and  I would  charge  you 
nothing  for  the  use  of  them.  You  should  keep  them 
as  long  as  you  live.  Then,5’  after  a pause,  and  with  a 
smile  intended  to  be  insinuating,  “ I suppose  after  your 
death  there  will  be  a sale  here,  Mr.  Cox,  and  then  my 
chairs,  from  having  been  in  the  possession  of  such  an 
eminent  artist,  will  sell  for  three  times  as  much  as  they 
would  now.  Let  me  send  them  up  at  once/5  “No, 
thank  you,  sir,55  replied  Cox.  “ I am  very  much  obliged, 


192 


DAVID  COX . 


but  cannot  avail  myself  of  your  kind  offer.  I am  accus- 
tomed to  my  own  chairs,  and  should  not  feel  so 
comfortable  in  any  other.  Besides,  it  would  make  me 
quite  wretched,  when  I am  sitting  alone  in  the  gloom, 
of  the  evening,  to  look  round  on  your  dark  funereal 
chairs,  upon  which,  for  aught  I know  to  the  contrary, 
hundreds  of  dead  people  may  have  sat  from  first  to  last, 
and  think  they  are  all  anxiously  waiting  for  my  death  to 
become  three  times  as  valuable  as  they  are  now  ! No, 
thank  you ! I could  not  endure  the  thought ! I won’t 
discard  my  old  chairs.  They  will  do  quite  well  enough 
for  me.”  So  the  ingenious  furniture-dealer  departed, 
baffled  in  a fine  stroke  of  business. 

The  sitting-room  walls  were  adorned  with  a few 
pictures  in  oil,  chiefly  Cox’s  own  works,  in  an  unfinished 
state ; but  over  the  sofa  hung  a masterly  sketch  by 
Muller,  for  which  Cox  had  great  admiration,  and  for 
which  he  had  given  in  exchange  one  of  the  largest  and 
best  of  his  own  works  in  oil,  “ The  Yale  of  Clwyd,” 
exhibited  in  the  Liverpool  Academy  at  80  guineas,  but 
returned  to  the  artist  unsold.  This  is  now  the  property 
of  a London  collector,  Mr.  de  Murietta,  who  paid 
2,000  guineas  for  it.  Over  the  sideboard  hung  for  some 
time,  until  it  was  finished  and  sold,  a most  brilliant  and 
effective  sketch  in  oil  of  Bettws  Church.  The  trans- 
parent, lovely  colour,  and  free,  spirited  handling  of  this 
work  were  most  charming.  It  ought  never  to  have 
been  touched  again  ; but  an  old  esteemed  friend  of  Cox 
desired  the  artist  to  “ finish”  it  for  him,  and  agreed  to 
pay  £100  for  it  when  completed.  This  was  done 


PICTURES  IN  EIS  SITTING-ROOM. 


193 


shortly  before  Cox’s  death ; but  much  of  the  trans- 
parency and  beautiful  colour  of  the  work  disappeared  in 
the  process  of  finishing,  and  the  masterly  manipulation 
had  given  place  to  the  feeble,  unsteady,  halting  touch 
of  the  painter’s  latter  days.  The  author  will  never 
forget  his  feeling  of  dismay  when  he  first  caught  sight 
of  the  “finished”  work.  But  Cox  received  £100  for 
the  completed  picture,  to  him  a large  and  tempting 
price,  the  largest  ever  paid  him  for  any  one  production. 
In  a corner  of  the  room,  near  the  door,  and  looking  like 
a duplicate  David  Cox,  hung,  during  the  last  years  of 
his  life,  the  portrait  by  Sir  Watson  Gordon.  It  was  so 
like  the  man  that  a stranger  might  almost  have  been 
excused  for  mistaking  it,  at  first  sight,  when  entering 
the  room,  for  the  artist  himself.  These  were  the  chief 
decorations  of  the  parlour  in  which  Cox  usually  sat ; a 
few  pictures  of  lesser  consequence  hanging  beside  and 
between  them.  A fine  large  sketch  of  Conway  Bay  and 
Castle  took  the  place  of  the  Bettws  Church  picture, 
when  the  latter  was  removed.  In  the  small  room  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  entrance  hall,  called  the  break- 
fast room,  hung  a large  early  drawing  of  Cader  Idris, 
somewhat  hard  and  precise,  but  nevertheless  a fine  work. 
This  Cox  bequeathed  to  his  old  friend  and  executor, 
Mr.  W.  L.  Ellis.  Facing  this  drawing  was  a full- 
length,  life-size  portrait  of  a Persian  prince,  said  to 
have  been  painted  by  Briggs,  It. A.  It  was  a well- 
executed  picture,  good  in  colour,  and  very  effective. 
Cox  liked  it  much.  Besides  these  there  were  several 
smaller  works  of  merit,  by  Muller,  Blacklock,  Lee,  B.A., 

N 


194 


DAVID  COX. 


and  others.  The  painting- room  was  of  the  plainest  and 
most  unpretending  character.  It  was  approached 
through  the  kitchen  (always  beautifully  clean  and  in 
order)  by  a narrow  flight  of  stairs,  and  must  at  one  time 
have  been  a servants’  bedroom.  It  was  converted  into 
a painting-room  by  the  introduction  of  a skylight  in 
the  roof,  besides  having  a window  at  the  side,  with  a 
northern  aspect,  to  be  used  if  required.  This  room 
was  carpeted  with  some  plain  material,  and  had  several 
tables  in  it,  on  which  lay  colours  and  brushes,  with 
numbers  of  sketches  and  unfinished  works  iii  oil  and 
water.  On  one  side  was  a sort  of  cupboard  over  the 
stairs,  having  a curtain  before  it,  and  in  which  were 
stacked  unsold  drawings  on  boards,  patiently  waiting 
for  purchasers.  Large  portfolios  of  drawings,  finished 
and  unfinished,  stood  against  the  walls ; and  the  easel 
was  planted  towards  the  end  of  the  room,  so  as  to 
enable  the  artist  to  retire  a few  paces  to  observe  the 
effect  of  his  work.  There  were  no  “ curios”  or  knick- 
knacks  lying  about,  no  rare  old  china,  no  armour,  no 
statuary,  no  antique  vases,  no  fine  bronzes — nothing  what- 
ever that  savoured  of  Wardour  Street  and  the  curiosity 
shops.  For  such  things,  as  furniture  for  his  painting- 
room,  David  Cox  had  no  relish.  He  loved  nothing 
resembling  display,  and  all  about  him  was  of  the 
simplest  character.  He  felt  that  the  possession  of  such 
things,  as  seen  in  the  studios  of  many  artists,  was  not  at 
all  necessary  to  the  production  of  fine  landscapes ; and 
lie  could  derive  such  inspiration  as  was  needful  to  him 
from  the  contemplation  of  bare  walls.  His  painting- 


HIS  PAINTING-BOOM. 


195 


room — it  was  too  unpretending  to  be  called  a studio — 
was  only  a sort  of  workshop,  in  which  he  laboured  day 
after  day  in  the  production  of  works  of  art.  With 
what  success  he  laboured  the  world  now  knows.  The 
world  knows  also  that  he  was  a highly-skilled  craftsman, 
notwithstanding  its  earlier  want  of  appreciation,  and 
notwithstanding  his  own  occasional  misgivings  as  to  his 
powers.  When  failing  to  execute  a given  passage  in 
some  picture  to  his  complete  satisfaction,  he  has  been 
heard  to  say,  half  in  jest  and  half  in  earnest,  throwing 
down  his  brush  in  a flurry,  “ Oh,  dear ! painting  is 
a most  difficult  trade . I shall  never  have  done 
learning  it.” 

It  has  been  said  before  that  Cox  cared  nothing  for 
luxurious  living ; he  was,  in  fact,  as  simple  in  this 
matter  as  in  everything  else.  Plain  diet  suited  him 
best,  and  he  liked  it  best.  During  the  latter  years  of 
his  life,  he  invariably  took  for  supper  a basin  of  boiled 
milk,  and  seemed  greatly  to  enjoy  it.  The  author  calls 
to  mind  how  exceedingly  annoyed  he  was  on  one  oc- 
casion, when  staying  at  the  Poyal  Hotel,  Edinburgh. 
A waiter  came  into  the  room,  and  requested  an  order 
for  dinner,  intimating  in  an  unmistakable  manner  that 
a simple  plain  repast  would  not  be  tolerated  in  that 
establishment,  but  that  a regular  hotel  dinner,  of  the 
usual  number  of  courses,  must  be  ordered,  or  no  atten- 
tion would  be  paid  to  himself  and  friends ; and  such  a 
dinner,  after  much  demurring  and  show  of  resistance, 
was  at  length  ordered  to  be  prepared,  although  the  old 

man  would  have  been  better  pleased  with  a simple  chop, 
o 


N 


196 


DAVID  COX. 


could  he  have  had  it  at  once,  and  without  ceremony; 
and  so,  indeed  would  have  been  his  companions.  The 
dinner,  when  it  came,  was  good  enough,  and  the  waiters 
were  attentive  to  him  ; but  poor  Cox  appeared  con- 
strained and  uncomfortable,  and  did  not  enjoy  his 
repast  half  as  much  as  he  would  have  done  at  home 
from  a boiled  neck  of  mutton  (a  favourite  dish  with 
him),  some  well-cooked  potatoes,  and  a bit  of  his  own 
sweet  home-baked  bread,  washed  down  with  a glass  of 
bitter  beer.  He  had  as  great  a reputation  for  his 
home-baked  bread  as  he  had  for  his  pictures.  He  was 
proud  of  this  admiration  for  his  bread,  and  used,  with 
great  delight,  to  recount  evidences  of  it. 

David  Cox  was  a sociable,  companionable  man,  by 
no  means  shy  or  reserved  in  manner.  Without  being 
at  all  what  is  understood  as  a talker,  or  aiming  at 
conversation,  he  was  “chatty55  and  agreeable,  always 
showing  the  nice  feeling  of  a gentleman.  He  was 
ever  a welcome  guest  at  the  tables  of  his  friends  and 
patrons ; and  many  a pleasant  little  dinner-party  has 
been  made  up  of  artist-acquaintances,  art  lovers,  and 
collectors,  when  Mr.  Cox  was  expected  to  honour  a 
friend  with  his  company.  Very  delightful  were  those 
intimate  parties,  with  the  interesting  chats  about  art,, 
artists,  and  all  the  picture  news  of  the  day.  Each  host 
had  his  collection,  large  or  small,  of  pictorial  treasures, 
including  some  of  the  choicest  works  of  the  eminent 
guest ; and  it  was  gratifying  to  Cox  to  observe  his 
productions  hanging  in  prominent  positions  on  the 
walls,  and  to  find  that  they  so  bravely  held  their  own 


CHEERFULNESS  IN  SOCIETY. 


197 


among  masterpieces  by  men  who  were  then  more 
famous  than  himself.  It  was  a pleasure  also  to  him  to 
receive  from  those  present — whose  opinions  he  knew 
were  based  on  knowledge  and  good  taste — congratula- 
tions on  his  happy  delineations  of  some  of  nature’s  most 
enchanting  features.  On  returning  home  from  such 
gatherings,  sometimes  charged  with  commissions  for 
new  pictures,  and  with  well-merited  commendations 
ringing  in  his  ears,  he  has  retired  to  rest  with  the 
declared  resolution  to  produce  something  on  the  morrow 
that  should  outdo  his  previous  achievements,  and  sur- 
prise the  most  enthusiastic  of  his  friends.  On  these 
occasions,  David  Cox  was  always  the  guest  of  the  day. 
He  was  made  much  of ; treated  with  the  most  loving 
regard;  all  were  studious  of  his  comfort  and  conveni- 
ence. And  surely  he  was  deserving  of  the  utmost 
consideration — so  gifted,  so  artless,  so  full  of  cliild-like 
simplicity,  so  unpretending,  natural,  and  kind ! A 
little  hasty  and  impetuous  sometimes  in  his  temper — 
now  and  then  when  offended,  he  could  say  sharp  things ; 
but  his  heat  was  soon  over,  and  all  the  native  kindli- 
ness of  his  disposition  soon  shone  out  again. 

When  in  good  health  and  spirits,  Cox  was  full  of 
life  and  humour,  and  brimming  over  with  small  jokes. 
Many  a time  has  he  made  his  friends  laugh  at  the 
smart  things  he  has  said  and  done.  His  humour  and 
frolicsomeness  were  occasionally  most  amusing.  His 
old  and  attached  friend,  Mr.  Charles  W.  Badclyffe,  has 
related  that  in  his  earlier  days,  when  Cox  was  on  a visit 
to  Mr.  William  Hadclyffe,  the  engraver  of  many  of  his 


198 


DAVID  COX. 


works,  and  father  of  the  narrator  of  the  anecdote,  the 
two  would  sometimes  go  to  spend  an  evening  with  a 
brother  artist — Mr.  J.  Y.  Barber,  at  that  time  resident 
in  Birmingham — and  they  would  not  unfrequently  stay 
chatting  until  a late  hour.  On  one  of  these  visits  the 
clock  had  struck  twelve,  midnight,  before  they  bade 
adieu  to  their  host.  Drawing  near  the  residence  of  his 
friend  in  George  Street,  Edgbaston,  Cox  (to  quote  the 
words  of  the  narrator)  “ would  lay  hold  of  the  old 
watchman — for  it  was  in  the  days  of  ‘the  Charlies5 — 
and  make  him  shout  under  my  mothers  window, 

‘ Half -past  ten  o'clock  ! 5 Then  Cox  would  cry  out  in 
wild  surprise,  c What  ? half-past  ten  ? Nonsense  ! it 
cannot  be  so  late ! 5 Some  one  was  sitting  up  for 
them ; for  there  were  no  latchkeys  in  those  days.55 

Some  years  ago  a picture  was  exhibited  at  the 
Boyal  Academy,  painted  by  Turner,  the  subject  and 
treatment  of  which  were  very  extraordinary.  It  was 
entitled  the  “ Casting  of  the  Iron  Duke,5’  and  was  so 
peculiar  in  many  respects  that  great  fun  was  made  of 
it  in  the  comic  papers  of  the  day.  It  represented  the 
interior  of  a foundry.  A considerable  portion  of  the 
subject  was  kept  dim  and  obscure,  and  against  the 
walls,  looming  through  the  dusk,  huge  cogged  wheels, 
bars  of  iron,  and  rusty  fragments  of  old  castings  were 
reared  on  either  side.  At  the  far  end  was  a blaze  of 
fire-light,  redolent  of  the  most  brilliant  hues  — red, 
yellow,  and  orange ; surrounding  which  (if  the  author 
can  rely  on  his  memory  after  the  lapse  of  so  long  a 
period)  workmen  were  seen  manipulating  <c  the  Duke,55 


HIS  QUIET  HUMOUR. 


199 


who,  seated  on  horseback,  with  cocked  hat  and  feather, 
and  looking  at  the  distance  very  small,  and  very  like  a 
child's  Christmas  toy,  was  beheld  in  midst  of  the  ruddy 
glow  as  though  he  were  being  roasted  alive.  Turner, 
not  satisfied  with  the  dazzling  effect  obtained  by 
surrounding  the  blazing  fire  with  broad  masses  of 
shadow  on  the  walls  and  roof  of  the  foundry,  had 
determined  to  make  the  glow  and  glare  still  more 
effective  by  opposition  of  colour.  He  could  conceive 
nothing  that  would  naturally  be  seen  in  the  place  to 
answer  the  desired  purpose  ; and  so  he  introduced,  in 
the  immediate  front  of  his  picture,  stretching  from 
side  to  side,  a row  of  cut  cabbages  of  the  greenest 
possible  hue.  These  cabbages  were  a great  puzzle  to 
many  visitors  to  the  exhibition.  Cox  was  in  the 
Academy  one  day,  looking  at  this  picture,  and  greatly 
amused  at  Turner's  ingenious  device,  when  a gentleman 
and  lady  came  up,  and  stood  some  time  in  contempla- 
tion of  the  singular  work.  At  length  the  lady  ex- 
claimed aloud  to  her  companion,  “ Whatever  are  they 
going  to  do  with  those  cabbages  ? ” Cox  turned  round 
to  the  lady,  he  made  a polite  bow,  and  gravely  replied, 
“ Boil  them,  madam  ! ” 

A friend  of  his,  a clergyman  residing  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Birmingham,  was  in  possession  of  a picture 
which  had  been  bequeathed  to  him,  and  was  considered 
extremely  valuable.  It  was  believed  to  be  a genuine 
work  by  Gaspar  Poussin.  The  owner  submitted  the 
work  to  his  friend  Cox  for  an  opinion  as  to  its  authen- 
ticity. “ Mr.  Cox,5’  said  he,  “ I know  that  you  are  a 


200 


DAVID  COX. 


very  good  judge  of  art,  ancient  or  modern,  and  I have 
heard  you  say  that  you  have  greatly  admired,  and  also 
copied,  the  landscapes  of  Gaspar  Poussin.  Will  you 
kindly  examine  the  picture  I have  brought  with  me, 
and  tell  me  if  you  think  it  a genuine  work  of  that 
painter  ? I have  been  told  that  it  is  worth  a very 
considerable  sum.”  Cox  took  the  picture  in  his  hands, 
and  at  a glance  saw  that  it  was  a worthless  copy. 
Putting  it  quietly  down  on  the  floor,  he  said,  “ Mr. 

A , Gaspar  Poussin  was  a great  artist — a very 

great  artist,  indeed — a much  better  artist  than  I am, 
or  ever  shall  be ; and  I should  be  ashamed  of  that 
thing.”  The  valuable  work  of  art  was  taken  back. 

On  another  occasion  a picture  was  submitted  to  Cox 
for  his  opinion,  by  a person  who  was  doubtful  as  to  the 
painter.  “ Mr.  Cox,”  he  said,  “ will  you  oblige  me  by 
looking  at  this  fine  work,  and  say,  if  you  are  able,  who 
was  the  master  that  painted  it?”  “ Sir,”  replied  Cox, 
just  glancing  at  the  wretched  production,  “I  am  of 
opinion  that  the  painter  of  that  picture  never  was  a 
master ! ” 

Cox  was  often  pestered  by  people  taking  very  in- 
different pictures  to  him  for  his  opinion  as  to  the  painter 
or  the  merits  of  them,  but  he  contrived  to  keep  his 
temper,  although  he  lost  his  time,  and  was  never 
tempted  to  be  angry  or  uncivil.  Once  a picture  was 
submitted  to  him,  as  being  the  production  of  an  artist 
of  eminence,  and  he  was  requested  to  say  what  he 
thought  of  its  merits.  He  looked  at  it  a moment 
and  inquired,  with  a twinkle  in  his  eye,  “ Did  you  tell 


HIS  CAUTION  IN  MONEY  MATTERS. 


201 


me  this  picture  was  painted  by  Muller?  ” <c  Oh,  yes  ! 
Mr.  Cox.  It  is  undoubtedly  by  him ! but  an  early 
work  of  that  master,  sir ; perhaps  a very  early  work  ! ” 
“ Yes,”  replied  Cox,  glancing  again  at  the  puerile  per- 
formance, “ so  early,  sir,  that  Midler  must  have  been  a 
little  girl  when  he  painted  it ! ” 

In  matters  of  business  Cox  liked  everything  done 
in  a proper  business-like  manner,  and  if  all  did  not  go 
on  as  smoothly  and  straightforwardly  as  could  be 
desired,  he  became  nervous,  fidgety,  and  annoyed.  For 
many  years  he  had  been  accustomed  to  invest  his 
savings  in  the  Funds,  and  although  the  interest  was 
low,  he  knew  that  his  money  was  safe,  and  had  no 
anxiety  lest  he  should  lose  it.  One  day  he  happened  to 
mention  to  a commercial  friend  of  high  repute,  that  he 
was  about  to  invest  another  sum  in  the  Funds,  as  be- 
fore, to  make  his  income  a little  better,  when  he  was 
strongly  urged  to  place  the  amount  in  something  that 
would  yield  a larger  return,  and  was  recommended  to 
purchase  shares  in  a newly-projected  business  to  be 
established  near  Birmingham,  which  promised  to  be  a 
profitable  speculation.  So  much  was  said  in  favour  of 
this  investment  by  his  friend,  that  Cox  decided  to  take 
the  course  pointed  out,  and  after  some  correspondence 
wfith  the  officials  of  the  concern,  dispatched  his  money 
by  letter  to  make  the  purchase.  He  expected  that  his 
remittance  would  have  been  acknowledged  by  return  of 
post,  but  day  after  day  passed  by,  and  no  acknowledg- 
ment came  to  hand.  He  thought  this  omission  was  a 
very  bad  beginning,  and  indicated  careless,  unbusiness- 


202 


DAVID  COX. 


like  conduct  on  the  part  of  the  management.  He  soon 
became  alarmed  for  the  safety  of  his  money.  He  could 
not  enjoy  his  meals,  or  sleep  at  night,  or  work  at  his 
pictures  with  any  pleasure.  He  said  to  himself,  “ This 
will  not  do  for  me.  I must  get  my  money  back,  and 
place  it  in  the  Funds,  as  I have  been  accustomed  to 
do.”  Accordingly  he  applied  for  his  money,  and  insisted 
on  having  it  returned.  The  manager  pleaded  an  “ over- 
sight;” but  no,  it  would  not  do.  The  money  must  be 
returned ; and  after  a little  parleying  it  was  returned, 
to  get  rid  of  Cox  and  his  importunity.  “ How,”  said 
the  artist,  “it  shall  go  into  the  Funds,  and  there  it 
shall  remain ! With  a safe  three  per  cent.,  I shall  be 
able  to  paint  again  with  peace  of  mind.”  Cox  was 
rather  careful  of  his  money,  and  could  not  endure  the 
thought  of  its  security  being  jeopardised  in  any  way. 
It  has  been  said  by  some  that  he  was  fond  of  money, 
and  did  not  like  to  part  with  it.  If  this  were  so,  the 
habit  of  taking  care  of  it  doubtless  originated  in  early 
days,  at  a time  when  he  found  it  a difficult  matter  to 
scrape  a few  pounds  together,  and  when  it  was  essential 
to  husband  his  small  earnings  against  a “ rainy  day.” 
But  he  was  very  far  from  being  miserly  or  mean ; and 
if  he  occasionally  preferred  to  discharge  an  obligation 
by  giving  a small  picture  instead  of  parting  with  his 
cash,  those  to  whom  he  was  indebted  were  only  too 
glad  to  be  paid  in  that  manner.  And  none  of  them 
ever  discovered  that  they  were  losers  in  the  end.  It  is 
a fact  that  some  of  these  pictures,  so  willingly  taken  in 
payment  for  inconsiderable  amounts,  have,  since  Cox’s 


HIS  POLITICAL  OPINIONS. 


203 


death,  been  sold  for  large  sums.  One  of  them — valued 
by  tbe  artist  at  not  more  than  five  or  six  pounds — has, 
to  the  author’s  knowledge,  been  purchased  by  an  eminent 
connoisseur  for  something  near  two  hundred  pounds. 
Possibly  those  of  Cox’s  friends  who  had  trifling  claims 
against  him,  and  who  could  look  a little  further  than 
others  into  the  future  time,  would  most  decidedly  have 
declined  payment  in  any  other  way,  could  they  with 
decency  have  spoken  what  was  uppermost  in  their 
thoughts. 

David  Cox  was  not  much  addicted  to  reading  mis- 
cellaneous literature.  He  had  no  library  of  books.  He 
had  no  need  to  refer  to  the  works  of  any  author  for  sub- 
jects for  his  pictures.  The  Book  of  Nature  was  all- 
sufficient  for  him.  His  “ study  ” was  out  of  doors,  on 
the  mountains,  or  in  the  fields  ; and  of  these,  it  must  be 
confessed,  he  was  ever  observant,  ever  thoughtful,  ever 
assiduous  student.  When  desirous  of  knowing  what 
was  going  on  in  the  world,  he  turned  to  the  newspaper 
for  information,  and  being  a Liberal  in  politics,  The 
Examiner , then  edited  by  Ponblanque,  was  his  favourite 
paper,  which  for  many  years  he  took  in.  He  was  by  no 
means  a demonstrative  politician — at  least  not  during 
the  author’s  intimacy  with  him  ; although  it  is  said  that 
earlier  in  life  he  did  not  shrink  from  giving  free  expres- 
sion to  his  convictions,  and,  when  residing  at  Hereford, 
actually  joined  a committee  to  arrange  for  a public 
reception  of  Joseph  Hume,  the  Beformer.  Latterly 
he  never  obtruded  his  political  opinions  in  any  society. 
His  kindness  of  heart  and  consideration  for  the  feelings 


204 


DAVID  COX. 


of  others  probably  rendered  him  disinclined  to  enter  into 
a dispute  that  might  give  offence  or  lead  to  unpleasant 
consequences  from  the  use  of  harsh  words  and  an 
ebullition  of  temper ; but  it  was  not  difficult  to  discern 
at  any  time  in  what  direction  his  opinions  lay,  and  that 
his  sympathies  and  convictions  were  with  the  advocacy 
of  Liberal  progress. 


'CHAPTER  XYI. 

His  Artistic  Characteristics  and  Distinguishing  Merits. 

The  distinguishing  merits  of  David  Cox  as  an  artist 
ought  by  this  time  to  he  well  understood  by  all  who 
profess  an  acquaintance  with  the  British  School  of 
landscape  painters.  In  the  expression  of  the  qualities 
of  light,  space,  and  air  he  will  almost  rank  with  the 
mightiest  of  England’s  landscape  artists — with  even 
Turner  himself.  In  rendering  the  every-day  aspects  of 
Nature,  as  we  are  accustomed  to  see  them  in  our  daily 
walks,  he  surpassed  Turner.  In  colour,  treatment,  and 
effect  his  works  are  more  natural  than  those  of  Turner ; 
more  faithful  as  transcripts  of  picturesque  scenery. 
They  are  far  more  English  than  his  ; less  idealised,  never 
lifted  from  earth  into  fairy-land.  They  are  “racy  of 
the  soil.”  There  is  a home-like  look  and  feeling  about 
them ; a simple,  honest  truthfulness ; a familiar  charm 
that  wins  our  affections.  Cox’s  perception  of  the 
beautiful  in  Nature  was  keen  and  far-seeing,  but  he 
aimed  only  to  record  that  which  he  saw  was  good,  and 
not  to  improve  upon  what  was  sufficiently  lovely.  He 
was  faithful  to  Nature  and  faithful  to  himself.  His 
mind  and  character  are  reflected  in  his  works.  His  love 
for  Nature  was  most  ardent;  his  sympathy  with  her 
manifestations  of  beauty  was  all  embracing ; his  delight 


206 


DAVID  COX. 


in  his  work  was  supreme — amounting  to  a passion.  Of 
the  mechanism  of  art  he  thought  little  ; his  mind  ever 
dwelt  upon  the  effect  he  desired  to  realise.  Through  the 
means  he  saw  the  end.  He  was  a poet  painter , who,  in 
the  sky  above  him,  and  even  in  the  weeds  beneath  his 
feet,  recognised  charms  that  thrilled  him  with  delight, 
and  whose  strong  desire  was  by  every  touch  and  tint  to 
make  others  feel  as  he  felt.  “ Art,”  says  Emerson,  “ is 
Nature  passed  through  the  alembic  of  mind.”  The 
“ fire  of  thought  ” separates  that  which  is  dross  from 
the  pure  metal  left  after  the  purgation.  The  artist’s 
mind  selects,  refines,  exalts  the  beautiful  features  of 
Nature,  moulding  the  plastic  substance  to  its  will,  and 
imbuing  it  with  something  of  its  own  spirituality ; and 
David  Cox’s  art  is  Nature  passed  through  the  mind  of 
a poet,  which  vibrated  to  every  manifestation  of  the 
beautiful,  as  the  iEolian  harp  vibrates  to  all  the  winds  of 
heaven. 

The  individuality  of  David  Cox  was  strongly  pro- 
nounced, and,  as  a consequence,  his  productions  are 
unlike  those  of  any  other  artist.  His  “ style,”  or 
manner  of  recording  and  representing  what  he  saw, 
felt,  and  loved  in  nature,  was  peculiarly  his  own.  The 
conceptions  he  embodied  in  his  works  were  born  of  his 
own  spirit.  His  originality  was  striking  and  un- 
questionable ; and,  like  all  original  minds,  he  had  to 
create  the  taste  necessary  to  the  enjoyment  of  his 
productions.  His  reputation,  therefore,  grew  up  slowly, 
but  it  grew  steadily  and  surely.  He  did  not  spring 
into  fame  at  a bound,  as  we  sometimes  behold  in  the 


QUALITIES  OF  HIS  WORKS 


207 


present  day,  when  men  comparatively  unknown  sud- 
denly, by  some  lucky  chance,  rise  into  popularity,  and 
become  famous  at  once.  It  was  not  until  after  his 
death  that  his  works  received  due  appreciation,  except 
from  a few  discerning  friends.  Many  of  his  finest 
exhibited  drawings  were  returned  to  him  from  the 
exhibitions  unsold.  lie  was  paid  but  small  sums  for 
those  which  were  sold,  compared  with  the  prices  ob- 
tained by  much  inferior  artists  now  for  productions  of 
mediocre  character.  Still,  he  laboured  on  with  a con- 
tented mind.  He  lived  simply,  but  comfortably;  his 
means  were  sufficient  for  his  needs ; he  loved  Nature, 
fondly,  passionately;  loved  his  art,  with  all  a true 
artist’s  affection ; and  was  conscious  that  he  possessed 
gifts  to  record  with  a certain  measure  of  success  the 
impressions  his  sensitive  mind  received  from  all  that 
was  lovely  and  divine  in  the  objects  around  him.  He 
also  doubtless  felt  and  knew,  with  a patient  confidence, 
that  the  time  would  come  when  his  genius  should  be 
acknowledged  by  the  world. 

Recalling  to  memory  productions  of  his  skill,  which 
have  left  on  the  mind  an  indelible  impression ; re- 
picturing their  striking  features,  and  the  fascinating 
qualities  and  effects  by  which  they  are  characterised  ; it 
will  occur  to  many  how  wonderfully  varied  are  the  skies 
he  painted ; how  soft  and  soothing,  how  tender-sweet, 
how  beautifully  serene,  how  full  of  summer  light  and 
warmth,  and  gladness,  are  many  that  glow  above  his 
landscapes  ! Others,  how  vaporous,  how  moist,  how 
heavy  with  rain  and  tempest,  how  torn  and  shattered 


208 


DAVID  COX. 


by  the  wind  into  broken  fragments  of  grey  rack  ! How 
majestic  are  his  great  clouds,  piled  like  Alps  above  the 
horizon,  white  in  the  blaze  of  noon,  or  golden  with  the 
glow  of  evening!  How  filmy  and  delicate  are  his 
upper  cirri,  lying  motionless  in  snowy  puffs  and 
clusters,  or  drawn  by  the  air  in  silvery  threads  across 
the  blue ! How  grand  are  his  mountain-ranges — near 
or  remote— fading  away  in  the  haze  of  distance,  or 
standing  solid  and  steadfast,  where  the  eye  can  discern 
crag  and  fissure,  herb  and  flower,  clothed  at  the  base 
with  majestic  woods,  and  circled  at  the  crest  with  mists 
that  wrap  the  splintered  ridges  in  wild  wreaths  of  grey ! 
What  pomp  in  his  clustering  summer  trees ! his  ancient 
forests— Sherwood  or  Arden — how  solemn  and  how  full 
of  mystery  ! How  grandly  the  hoary  trunks  bend  with 
the  weight  of  years  ! how  gnarled  and  contorted  are  the 
ancient  limbs  ! how  pathetic  in  ruin  are  the  leafless 
tops,  sapless  and  barkless,  shattered  by  the  storms  of 
bygone  centuries  ! how  deep  the  repose  of  decay,  when 
autumn  leaves  cover  with  russet  hues  the  buried  green- 
sward ! how  full  of  stormy  passion,  when  boisterous 
winter  gales  tear  through  the  forest  glades,  bend  the 
strong  limbs,  and  splinter  the  boughs  they  toss  upon 
their  way ! His  tumbling  hill-streams  and  gently-flowing 
rivers ! His  pastures,  so  verdant  and  so  sweet  ! His 
briary  hedgerows  and  his  turfy  banks ! His  weedy 
foregrounds,  so  dewy  and  fresh ! His  heathery  wastes, 
far-stretching  in  melancholy  gloom  when  the  sky  above 
them  is  wrapt  in  cloud,  or  cheerful  as  a garden  full  of 
flowers  in  the  sunlight ! Then,  how  great  is  his  range ! 


NATURAL  INCIDENTS  INTRODUCED.  209 

How  diversified  are  his  effects ! How  captivating  his 
subjects  and  their  treatment ! How  pure  and  lovely 
his  colour ! How  large  and  grand  his  masses  ! What 
stillness  in  his  repose  ! What  magic  in  his  light  and 
shadow ! What  expression,  what  poetry,  in  all  he  did  ! 

There  is  a pathetic  interest  in  many  of  the  inci- 
dents he  has  introduced  into  his  works.  The  poor 
tired  lamb,  carried  by  the  shepherd  over  the  rough 
mountain-road ; the  dead  ewe  lying  stiff  on  the  dreary 
moor,  its  innocent  offspring  bleating  by  its  side ; the 
old  worn-out  labourer,  sunning  his  chilly  blood  upon 
the  bench  beside  the  cottage  door,  or  supporting  his 
tottering  limbs  with  a staff,  while  he  watches  the 
passing  funeral,  and  meditates  on  the  near  approach 
of  his  own  end ; the  little  village  children  in  deep 
distress,  with  the  broken  pitcher  at  the  spring.  Inci- 
dents of  this  character,  truthful,  familiar,  homely, 
are  scattered  through  the  works  of  David  Cox. 
Children  and  their  pleasures  always  afforded  him  great 
delight,  and  he  loved  to  introduce  them  in  his  pictures. 
Now  they  are  gathering  blackberries  in  the  lanes ; now 
flying  a kite  upon  the  common ; now  listening  to  the 
song  of  the  lark.  Sometimes  he  gives  us  lads  fishing, 
or  bathing  in  the  shady  streams,  or  flinging  stones 
at  an  angry  bull,  or  raising  a hubbub  among  the 
rooks  careering  round  the  oaks  and  beeches  in  the 
park.  Or  he  draws  for  us  playful  girls  returning  from 
school  through  the  lanes,  plucking  the  wild  flowers  as 
they  linger  on  their  way,  or  stopping  to  fondle  the 
kitten  at  the  cottage  door. 

O 


O 


210 


DAVID  COX. 


David  Cox,  as  an  artist,  had  three  striking  cha- 
racteristics, which  may  readily  be  traced  in  the  majority 
of  his  works. 

First,  he  was  a suggestive  painter.  He  possessed 
largely  the  gift  of  imagination,  and  addressed  himself, 
in  his  works,  to  those  endowed  with  something  of  that 
faculty  themselves.  He  was  no  believer  in  what  is 
called  a close  and  literal  imitation  of  Nature  ; in  the 
vain  endeavour  to  represent  every  tint  and  tone,  every 
leaf  or  stone,  or  blade  of  grass.  He  knew  that  the 
labour  of  a twelvemonth,  and  the  crowding  of  his  can- 
vas with  minute  details,  would  bring  him  no  nearer  the 
Infinite  than  would  the  work  of  a day.  He  felt  that  at 
the  utmost  he  could  do  no  more  than  suggest  the  endless 
variety  and  fulness  of  Nature,  and  therefore  contented 
himself  with  a broad,  general,  and  indicative  represen- 
tation of  her  features.  He  closed  his  eyes  to  the  minute 
particulars  before  him  ; endeavouring  to  see  Nature  only 
in  her  breadth  and  simplicity,  and  recording  the  vivid 
impressions  thus  made  on  his  mind.  And  such  a seeing 
of  Nature  makes  a more  powerful  impression  than  when 
the  eye  is  distracted  by  a multiplicity  of  details  and 
minute  parts.  And  such  a rendering  of  Nature  is  more 
gratifying,  from  the  charms  of  breadth,  simplicity,  and 
largeness  of  style,  than  when  the  subject  is  broken  up 
into  disjointed  fragments  ; spotted  over  with  little  lights 
and  darks  ; made  to  glitter  with  prismatic  hues  ; elabor- 
ated to  the  full  extent  that  keen  eyes,  a steady  hand, 
and  weeks  of  patient  toil  can  accomplish.  This  broad, 
simple,  and  large  style  was  David  Cox’s  in  the  maturity 


SUGGESTIVENESS  OF  HIS  PICTURES.  211 

of  His  power.  We  do  not  require  the  artist  in  his 
representations  of  Nature  to  do  everything  for  us.  We 
like  to  do  something  ourselves,  in  the  way  of  filling  up, 
from  hints,  indications,  and  suggestions  he  may  give  us 
in  his  works.  We  prefer  a little  mystery  somewhere 
to  feed  and  stimulate  imagination,  as  well  as  something 
positive  and  definite  addressed  to  our  sight  and  appeal- 
ing to  our  perception  of  the  merely  literal.  It  will 
frequently  occur  to  the  landscape  artist,  when  painting 
from  Nature,  how  much  there  is  in  the  subject  before 
him  which  he  cannot  distinctly  discern  ; what  indefinite- 
ness there  is  everywhere,  not  only  in  objects  and 
appearances  remote,  but  in  those  also  which  are  near. 
In  endeavouring  to  penetrate  into  the  obscure  and 
mysterious  parts  of  his  subject,  with  a view  to  a more 
definite  comprehension  of  their  meaning,  his  imaginative 
faculty  is  called  into  activity,  and  creates  a something 
to  fill  up  the  void  when  his  bodily  vision  is  altogether 
at  fault.  A streak  of  light,  or  a dot  of  shadow — a 
tint  or  tone,  or  slight  variation  of  surface,  is  sufficient 
to  call  imagination  into  play,  and  to  suggest  to  him 
forms,  features,  peculiarities,  which  might  possibly  be 
manifest  on  a closer  inspection,  but  which  are  unre- 
vealed and  shrouded  in  mystery  at  the  standpoint  from 
which  he  regards  the  scene.  And  thus  the  scene,  in 
addition  to  all  its  real,  palpable,  and  unmistakable 
charms,  is  “ rife  in  beauties  not  its  own.”  This  activity 
of  the  imagination  is  the  source  of  much  of  the  plea- 
sure the  artist  derives  from  the  contemplation  of  Nature. 
But  upon  another — seated  beside  him,  and  looking 
2 


o 


212 


DAVID  COX. 


upon  the  same  objects — whose  imaginative  faculty  is 
feeble  and  inert,  the  impression  will  be  very  different. 
His  delight  will  be  small ; he  will  perceive  nothing  but 
what  is  obvious  to  his  bodily  sense.  The  rest,  which 
goes  to  make  up  the  fulness  of  Nature,  will  be  empty ; 
nothing  will  be  suggested  to  his  mind,  and  nothing 
will  he,  in  his  work,  be  able  to  suggest  to  others. 
Those  passages  which  in  Nature  are  full  of  mystery, 
will,  in  his  rendering  of  her,  he  treated  as  bald,  flat, 
and  empty  spaces,  shown  by  washes  of  plain,  unmean- 
ing colour  ; or  he  will  crowd  the  void  with  details 
not  to  be  seen  in  Nature,  and  which  he  and  the 
unintelligent  public  will  mistake  for  “finish/’  Howt 
entirely  different  will  be  the  productions  of  the  two 
artists  ! Few  would  accept  them  as  representations  of 
the  same  scene.  The  one  painter  will  be  careful  that 
all  those  passages  which  in  Nature  are  characterised  by 
indefiniteness  and  mystery,  shall  be  so  treated  in  his 
work  as  to  convey  to  other  minds  the  same  impressions 
he  himself  received  in  the  contemplation  of  her,  and 
with  the  same  pleasurable  results.  The  other  will  cover 
every  portion  of  his  canvas  with  unmeaning  brushwork, 
in  his  anxiety  that  no  part  should  escape  the  so-called 
finish  and  completeness  deemed  essential  to  his  style  ! 
How  entirely  opposite  to  this  is  the  finish  of  a true  artist 
— such  as  Turner  or  Cox.  His  elaboration  is  always  in 
the  right  places — in  those  parts  of  a subject  where 
completeness  should  be  visible : this  finish  is  that 

of  character — of  all  that  is  essential  to  the  perfect 
rendering  of  the  salient  features  of  the  subject,  in  form, 


BREADTH  AND  “FINISH.” 


213 


colour,  gradation  of  distance,  light  and  shade,  in  grace 
and  beauty,  in  power,  splendour,  and  effect.  No  one 
could  dwell  more  earnestly,  more  lovingly,  than  did 
Turner  on  those  leading  points  and  conspicuous  features 
upon  which  he  wished  the  eye  to  rest.  He  gave  to 
them,  by  the  utmost  care  in  elaboration,  all  the  char- 
acter and  completeness  necessary  to  the  proper  under- 
standing and  appreciation  of  their  truthfulness  and 
beauty.  But  no  one  knew  better  than  he  when  and 

where  to  be  indefinite  and  mysterious.  No  one  could 

be  more  suggestive  than  he  was,  when  definite 

elaboration  would  have  injured  his  effect.  No  artist 
could  appeal  more  forcibly  to  the  imagination  than  could 
Turner,  whenever  he  thought  fit,  by  what  he  concealed, 
or  by  what  he  merely  indicated,  or  hinted  at,  or  incom- 
pletely and  imperfectly  delineated.  Turner’s  “ finish  ” 
is  most  precious ; not  a line,  a tint,  a touch  could 
be  spared.  The  other  kind  of  “ finish,”  as  it  is 
erroneously  called,  is  nothing  but  finger- work : unin- 
telligent, signifying  nothing,  devoid  of  character, 

producd  by  dexterous  mechanical  movements  of  the 
pencil,  distributed  equally  over  every  portion  of  the 
surface ; fatiguing  to  the  eye,  distracting  to  the  mind, 
reducing  the  work  to  one  dead,  soulless,  uniform  level. 

Making  due  allowance  for  a difference  of  style — for 
a bolder  and  broader  manner  of  working — David  Cox 
proceeded  on  exactly  the  same  principles  as  did  Turner 
in  carrying  his  pictures  to  completion.  His  finish  was 
always  in  the  right  place ; his  elaboration  — to  the 
extent  he  thought  necessary,  according  to  his  way  of 


2]  4 


DAVID  COX. 


looking  at  Nature,  and  with  his  peculiar  organisation— 
was  exactly  where  it  was  required,  and  nowhere  else. 
Hence  the  effectiveness  of  his  works ; hence  their  great 
power  to  impress  us,  as  he  himself  was  impressed  by 
what  he  saw  and  strongly  felt ; for  he  dwelt  on  those 
features  and  effects  which  struck  the  blow,  so  to  speak, 
as  he  looked  at  Nature,  and  which  stamped  the  first 
impression  of  their  character  and  beauty  on  his  mind. 

Secondly,  David  Cox  was  eminently  a truthful 
painter.  He  saw  nature  as  it  really  appears  to  a 
healthy,  unsophisticated  mind.  Not  many  artists  are 
so  highly  favoured.  Some  pass  a considerable  portion 
of.  their  lives  in  “ painting  from  nature,”  dwelling 
perhaps  amid  beautiful  scenery,  possessed  of  fair  ability, 
having  the  requisite  knowledge  of  the  principles  and 
resources  of  their  art ; yet  the  result  of  their  labours, 
as  regards  the  truthful  resemblance  of  what  they 
attempt  to  portray,  is  a failure.  They  do  not  see 
Nature  as  she  is.  We  are  not  carried  out  of  doors,  as 
it  were,  among  the  fields  and  woods  and  mountains, 
when  we  look  upon  their  works.  There  is  neither  fresh 
air  nor  pure  colour  in  them.  Such  men  as  these  sit 
down  before  Nature,  not  to  represent  faithfully  that 
which  she  is,  for  they  do  not,  or  will  not,  see  her  as 
she  is;  but  to  produce  something  which  shall  be  in 
accordance  with  a preconceived  notion  of  effect,  or 
possibly  some  favourite  scheme  of  colour,  or  mode  of 
accomplishing  results,  which  they  adapt  to  the  subject. 
The  consequence  is  a striking  unreality.  Special 
qualities  of  organisation,  in  some  instances,  physical  or 


HIS  PERCEPTION  OF  COLOUR. 


215 


mental,  in  a marked  degree  determine  the  character  of 
the  work.  An  artist  shall  be  horn  with  what  is 
termed  a “grey  eye."  When  he  looks  at  nature,  he 
sees  little  hut  what  is  grey  to  him.  The  greyness 
predominates  in  every  object.  The  consequence  is  that 
his  transcripts  are  invariably  grey  and  cold — frequently 
repulsively  so — we  shiver  as  we  look  at  them.  Critics 
conclude,  hastily,  that  he  does  not  represent  what  he 
sees.  The  probability  is,  he  does  see  what  he  repre- 
sents, but  that  he  does  not  see  all,  and  that  we  do  not 
see  as  he  does.  We  therefore  condemn  his  work  as 
wanting  in  truthfulness.  Another  artist,  differently 
organised,  is  gifted  with  an  “ eye  for  colour."  In 
looking  at  nature,  the  greyness  is  lost,  or  nearly  lost, 
upon  him.  He  sees  the  splendour  of  tint  and  tone  ; 
the  endless  variety  of  Nature’s  hues  appeals  to  his 
sensitive  vision;  he  applies  all  the  resources  of  his 
palette  to  produce  a representation  of  the  effects  of 
colour  displayed  before  him ; and  from  this  excess  he 
not  improbably  fails  in  truthfulness.  Now  David  Cox 
was . so  happily  organised  as  to  have  possessed  a keen 
perception  of  Nature’s  atmospheric  greyness  in  the 
gradations  of  distance,  and  also  an  eye  for  her  strongest 
and  her  most  subtle  effects  of  colour.  Hence  the  ex- 
ceeding truthfulness  and  naturalness  of  his  works,  in 
which  we  have  both  excellences  in  happy  combination. 
Cox's  slightest  sketches  have  as  great  an  appearance  of 
truthfulness  as  his  more  finished  works.  Let  the 
subject  be  only  a cottage  by  the  roadside,  a group  of 
trees,  with  a fragment  of  park  paling,  an  old  water- 


216 


DAVID  COX. 


mill,  or  a windmill  at  tlie  edge  of  a common ; two  or 
three  cart-horses  or  cows,  grazing  in  a pasture  ; a team 
at  plough,  or  a husbandman  stalking  over  the  furrowed 
land,  and  casting  seed  to  the  right  and  left  of  him  as 
he  goes ; however  simple  in  character,  and  however 
slight  in  the  making  out,  there  is  an  appearance  of 
truthfulness  in  these  hasty  memoranda  which  strikes  all 
beholders  at  the  first  glance.  In  very  many  instances 
they  would  be  spoiled  if  another  touch  were  put  upon 
them.  They  seem  complete  as  they  are.  Cox  went  to 
the  heart  of  the  matter  at  once,  and  a few  strokes  and 
tints  fixed  it  on  the  paper  with  all  the  requisite  effect. 
He  seized  immediately  on  the  leading  characteristics  of 
his  subject,  and  lost  no  time  in  dwelling  on  features 
not  essential  to  the  truth  of  what  he  desired  to  tell. 
For  this  reason  so  many  of  his  sketches  and  unfinished 
works  possess  charms  which  a higher  stage  of  finish 
would  seriously  impair. 

Thirdly,  David  Cox  was  an  English  painter  by  love 
and  choice,  as  well  as  by  the  accident  of  birth  : he  gave 
the  preference  to  the  scenery  of  his  own  country.  He 
cared  not  to  depict  the  views  in  Any-man’s  land  or  in 
No -man’s  land.  He  had  little  of  the  visionary  idealist 
in  his  composition,  and  shrank  from  allowing  his  ima- 
gination to  conjure  up  dreams  of  ancient  Italy  or 
classic  Greece  as  subjects  on  which  to  exercise  his 
artistic  skill.  He  rarely  indulged  in  soaring  flights  of 
this  ambitious  character.  Once  or  twice,  perhaps,  he 
made  excursions  into  this  poetic  region,  but  soon  found 
it  was  no  home  for  him,  and  returned  like  the  prodigal 


HIS  CLOUDS  AND  SKIES. 


217 


to  his  fatherland.  It  is  true  he  visited  the  Continent 
on  several  occasions,  and  found  material  there  to  interest 
him,  especially  in  the  street  scenes  and  picturesque 
buildings ; hut  for  the  scenery  of  his  own  country,  its 
freshness,  variety,  and  homeliness,  he  had  an  affection 
which  he  could  never  feel  for  that  of  any  other  land. 
He  was  not  merely  content  to  spend  his  life  in  delineat- 
ing the  unpretending  subjects  he  found  within  the 
sea-washed  boundaries  of  England  and  Wales ; he 
rejoiced  in  it,  and  found  endless  delight  in  the 
picturesque  hits  of  rural  landscape  that  lay  close  to  his 
door — the  rustic  dwellings  of  the  peasantry,  the  farms 
and  homesteads,  the  old  green  lanes,  the  furze-clad 
commons,  the  wild  heathy  wastes,  the  ruin-crowned 
hills,  the  woods,  waters,  moorlands,  and  storm-beaten 
mountains  of  his  own  dear  land.  He  had  a strong 
affection  for  the  “ effects  ” incidental  to  our  fickle 
climate  and  variable  weather.  The  humid  skies  and 
frequent  showers  that  fill  the  delicate  with  alarm,  and 
strike  the  foreigner  aghast,  were  to  him  a source  of 
endless  pleasure ; and  he  never  wearied  of  repeating 
them  in  his  works.  Although  he  has  given  us  many 
skies  of  a bright  and  cheerful  character — skies  beaming 
with  golden  sunshine,  or  serenely  dappled  with  blue 
and  white — his  preference  was  manifest  for  skies  sug- 
gestive of  moist  and  rainy  and  lowering  weather.  He 
loved  the  sweet  grey  of  the  rain-cloud.  He  loved  the 
gloom  of  gathering  or  bursting  storm.  He  delighted 
in  the  grand  effects  displayed  by  skies  of  this  character, 
especially  in  mountainous  districts.  He  loved  also  the 


218 


DAVID  COX. 


fleeting  effects  of  light  and  shadow  produced  by  skies  in 
which  cloud  chases  cloud  across  the  blue  expanse,  and 
broad  waves  of  sunshine,  with  alternate  shadows,  sweep 
over  hill  and  dale,  meadow  and  woodland,  giving  to 
inanimate  Nature  an  expression  like  that  which  a passing 
emotion  of  joy  or  sadness  imparts  to  the  face  of  man. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


Kemarks  in  Conclusion — Influence  of  Cox’s  Works  and  Genius  on  the  Landscape 
Art  in  this  Country,  and  on  the  Public  Taste. 

Deflecting  on  the  artistic  career  of  David  Cox,  it  is 
impossible  not  to  be  impressed  with  a sense  of  his  perse- 
vering and  incessant  industry ; his  unwearied  application 
to  study;  his  firm  self-reliance,  in  spite  of  many  dis- 
couragements ; his  earnest  devotion  to  his  art.  He  never 
depended  for  great  results  on  spurts  and  flashes  of 
genius,  but  strove  to  acquire  all  knowledge  needful  in 
his  pursuit ; he  was  a learner  even  when  he  was  acknow- 
ledged as  a master.  He  was  always  at  work,  either  with 
brush  or  pencil  in  hand,  or  considering  subjects  to  be 
taken  up.  The  immense  number  of  his  works,  finished 
and  unfinished,  both  in  oil  and  water-colour,  affords 
evidence  sufficient  of  his  untiring  industry  and  of  the 
fertility  of  his  mind.  That  he  was  gifted  with  genius 
in  a consummate  degree  few  at  this  time  will  be  inclined 
to  dispute.  His  sensibility  to  the  beautiful  in  Nature 
must  have  been  most  exquisite,  or  he  could  not  have 
recorded  the  subtle  and  manifold  charms  he  beheld  with 
such  wonderful  effect.  Imagination — within  the  range 
of  the  subjects  he  best  loved — was  transcendent  in  him. 
The  daring  courage  with  which  he  attacked  subjects  and 
effects  most  difficult  to  deal  with  ; the  absolute  foreknow- 
ledge of  Avhat  he  intended  to  do ; the  directness  and 


220 


DAVID  COX. 


certainty  with  which  he  did  it  at  a stroke  ; all  indicate 
the  master-mind — that  indefinable  quality,  the  union  of 
perception  and  power,  which  we  call  genius.  In  many 
of  his  drawings  it  is  delightful  to  observe  with  what 
sureness  of  hand  and  unerring  precision  he  worked  his 
way  to  the  designed  result.  Not  a touch  too  many  or 
too  few.  Not  a tint  misplaced.  Neither  too  weak  nor 
too  strong.  His  colour  may  be  said  to  be  always  right 
for  the  place,  and  to  be  always  kept  subservient  to  the 
effect  of  the  whole.  His  sweetness  is  unsurpassed  in 
its  tenderness  and  grace  ; his  strength  has  few  rivals  in 
its  majesty  and  splendour. 

The  Author’s  admiration  of  the  genius  of  Cox  and 
the  merit  of  his  works  may  by  some  be  deemed  too 
enthusiastic ; but  he  would  like  to  ask,  who  has  depicted 
the  green  lanes  of  England,  with  the  picturesque  beauty 
and  the  poetry  peculiar  to  them,  more  successfully  than 
David  Cox  ? Who  has  shown  us  the  lowly  dwelling  of 
the  peasant  by  the  quiet  meadow-side,  or  on  the  wild 
mountain  moor,  the  mill  by  the  brawling  stream,  the 
grey  church -tower  above  the  trees,  the  peaceful  village, 
the  time-worn  priory  or  baronial  hall,  with  more  of 
truthfulness  and  beauty  than  he  has  done  ? Who  has 
illustrated  seed-time  and  harvest,  has  put  before  us 
smiling  meadows,  with  flocks  and  herds  knee-deep 
in  verdure,  or  summer  hay-fields,  filled  with  life,  more 
happily,  with  greater  truth  and  beauty,  than  David 
Cox  ? Who  has  depicted  the  dreary  wastes,  the  rocky 
torrents,  the  purple  deep-toned  solemn  mountain  heights 
of  his  beloved  Wales  with  subtler  skill  ? Dear  old  David 


THE  HAPPINESS  OF  HIS  LIFE. 


221 


Cox  ! We  bless  thy  memory  for  the  sweet  glimpses  of 
Nature  given  us  in  thy  faithful  works.  We  gratefully 
view  through  thy  loving  eyes  the  manifold  beauties  of 
our  own  dear  land. 

If  we  cast  a retrospective  view  over  the  life  of  David 
Cox,  through  a period  comprising  the  whole  of  his  artist 
career,  we  arrive  at  the  conclusion  that  on  the  whole 
his  was  a happy  life.  True,  in  early  days  he  had  to 
struggle  to  live,  and  knew  what  it  was  to  encounter 
the  frowns  of  fortune,  having  sometimes  been  hard  put 
to  it  to  find  the  means  of  subsistence.  True,  he  not 
unfrequently  felt  that  teaching  others  to  draw  was 
irksome  drudgery,  which  his  spirit  rebelled  against,  and 
by  which  it  was  often  beaten  down,  bruised  if  not  broken. 
True,  he  was  many  a time  greatly  dissatisfied  with  his 
studies  from  nature,  and  has  torn  up  in  vexation  the  re- 
sults of  many  a day’s  hard  work,  and  thrust  the  fragments 
down  the  drains  of  London  streets,  disgusted  with  his 
feeble  attempts  to  delineate  what  he  had  admired.  But 
of  what  were  these  troubles  when  compared  with  his  great 
reward  ? And  this  reward  came  of  his  true  manliness. 
He  was  never  vanquished,  if  sometimes  overthrown. 
There  was  courage  in  his  heart  and  elasticity  in  his 
spirit  to  enable  him  to  return  to  his  work  with  renewed 
and  augmented  energy,  even  after  failure.  Then  he  had 
the  rare  felicity  of  choosing  his  own  work  in  life  and  of 
ordering  it  according  to  his  wish. 

Nor  was  the  life  one  to  be  despised  for  its  en- 
joyments, independent  of  art.  He  sat,  day  after  day 
and  year  after  year,  in  the  fresh,  open  country,  amidst 


222 


DAVID  COX. 


the  most  lovely  scenery,  with  the  birds  warbling  around, 
the  sweet  air  blowing  freely  around  him,  and  the 
brightness  of  sunshine  filling  him  with  delight.  It 
was  his  work  to  note  and  record  for  the  pleasure  and 
the  instruction  of  thousands,  the  delicious  calm  of 
eventide,  the  glories  of  rising  and  setting  suns,  the 
terrors  of  storm  and  tempest,  the  varying  hues  and 
effects  of  the  changing  seasons,  the  occupations  of  out- 
of-door  existence,  of  all  that  world  of  life  and  beauty 
of  which  the  dwellers  in  towns  know  little,  and 
concerning  which  the  toilers  pent  in  workshop, 
warehouse,  or  busy  wharf,  pass  through  existence 
in  ignorance  of  their  charms.  He  was  happy  in  the 
knowledge  that  such  was  the  lot  in  life  marked  out 
for  him.  He  was  happy  in  the  conviction  that  he 
was  organised  to  receive  exquisite  pleasure  from  all 
he  saw  around  him ; that  he  was  endowed  with  the 
power  to  record  those  impressions  for  the  delight  of 
others,  and  to  awake  in  their  minds  something  of 
the  ecstasy  which  filled  his  own.  As  time  wore  on, 
he  was  happy  to  feel  and  know  that  his  genius  was 
admitted  by  many  wdiose  good  opinion  was  a recom- 
pense for  all  his  labours ; that  his  works  were  coveted 
and  prized  by  the  educated  and  discerning  among 
his  countrymen ; and  that  his  place  in  English  art 
was  assured.  He  was  happy,  as  he  advanced  in  years, 
to  behold  around  him,  as  the  result  of  long-continued 
industry,  commendable  frugality,  and  honest  self- 
control,  the  comforts  and  conveniences  of  life;  to 
know  that  his  struggles  for  existence  were  all  over ; 


HIS  EARNINGS  AS  A PAINTER. 


223 


and  that  prosperity  and  plenty  were  his  at  last.  And 
he  was  especially  happy  in  the  reflection  that  he  should 
be  enabled  to  leave  behind  him  for  those  who  were 
dear  to  him  as  life  itself,  sufficient  for  their  every  need. 

The  money  savings  of  David  Cox,  the  produce  of 
his  brush,  amounted  to  a sum  of  about  £12,000 — 
small  enough,  doubtless,  but  not  so  poor,  considering 
the  times  in  which  he  lived,  and  the  moderate  value 
he  set  upon  his  works.  Some  popular  artists  of  our 
day  would  repine  if  they  could  not  put  by — or,  more 
probably,  spend — as  large  a sum.  as  this  every  two  or 
three  years.  But  it  must  be  remembered  that  Cox  was 
not  popular  with  the  class  that  buys  pictures  quickly, 
and  at  high  prices.  The  dealers  thought  little  of  him 
until  he  was  dead ; and  “ patrons  ” depend  very  much 
upon  the  dealers’  guidance.  Cox  had  to  educate  his 
public  before  he  could  sell  his  works,  and  the  operation 
required  time,  and  a persistent  struggle  for  opportunities. 
However,  he  contrived  to  put  by  from  his  earnings 
the  sum  of  £12,000,  leaving  handsome  legacies  to  his 
grandchildren,  to  his  old  and  faithful  servant,  and  the 
residue  to  his  son.  He  also  bequeathed  to  the  latter 
all  his  unsold  works  of  every  kind,  which,  when 
offered  for  sale  a few  years  after  his  death,  and  when 
his  fame  had  become  diffused,  realised  the  not  unim- 
portant amount  of  something  approaching  to  £26,000, 
After  all,  not  so  very  bad. 

Let  us  now  leave  him,  resting  in  his  humble 
grave,  in  the  churchyard  of  his  beloved  Harborne, 
with  the  chaplet  he  has  won  encircling  his  revered 


224 


DAVID  COX. 


grey  hairs,  and  the  affections  of  those  to  whom  he  was 
endeared  following  his  spirit  to  that  other  world  wherein 
it  dwells,  amid  delights  that  shall  know  no  ending ! 

In  concluding  this  chapter,  a few  remarks  may  be 
permitted  on  the  influence  which  the  works  and  genius 
of  David  Cox  have  exercised  upon  the  landscape-art  of 
this  country,  and  on  the  public  taste. 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  Cox’s  choice  of  home 
scenery,  and  his  revelation  of  its  beauties,  have  shown 
both  to  artists  and  the  public  the  surpassing  loveliness 
and  interest  of  the  landscape  material  to  be  found  in 
endless  abundance  at  home.  Multitudes  of  landscape 
painters  have  followed  the  footsteps  of  Cox  over  those 
parts  of  the  country  where  he  found  his  most  captivating 
subjects.  Bettws-y-coed,  in  particular,  his  favourite  and 
memorable  haunt,  has  for  years  been  the  regular  camping- 
ground  of  men  anxious  to  rival  him  in  his  own  special 
field.  The  productions  of  some  of  these  have  perhaps 
exhibited  too  close  a resemblance  to  the  works  of  the 
master  whose  genius  they  admired ; but  many,  without 
being  in  any  sense  imitators  of  Cox,  nevertheless 
display  proofs  that  their  authors  have  been  deeply 
influenced  by  him  as  regards  feeling  and  treatment,  and 
by  his  peculiar  way  of  looking  at  Nature.  The  works 
of  such  artists  have  been  distributed  throughout  the 
land,  and  the  public  taste  has  been  elevated.  In  a 
word,  Cox  taught  other  painters  how  to  see  Nature,  and 
where  to  look  for  her  beauties  ; and  those  whom  he  thus 
influenced  have  diffused  his  teaching  through  the  ranks 
of  all  who  care  for  Art. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


Special  Exhibitions  of  Cox’s  Works — Liverpool  Art  Club  Banquet. 

Shortly  before  the  death  of  David  Cox,  towards  the 
end  of  1858,  and  again,  at  the  beginning  of  1859,  as 
many  of  his  works  as  were  available  were  collected  for 
public  exhibition.  The  first  of  these  exhibitions  was 
held  at  Hampstead,  in  the  rooms  of  the  Conversazione 
Society,  and  attracted  a large  number  of  visitors  from 
all  parts  of  the  country.  Several  artists  of  eminence 
interested  themselves  in  it,  and  Mr.  E.  Field  delivered 
an  admirable  address  at  the  opening.  In  April  of  the 
following  year  a more  considerable  collection  was  made. 
Nearly  170  works  in  oil  and  water-colour  were  exhibited 
at  the  German  Gallery  in  New  Bond  Street.  The 
lenders  comprised  some  of  the  best-known  names 
amongst  the  collectors  of  modern  works  of  art : and  the 
profits  of  the  exhibition  were  devoted  to  the  augmenta- 
tion of  the  Artists’  Benevolent  Fund. 

The  last  and  most  comprehensive  collection  of  the 
artist’s  productions  was  brought  together  in  Liverpool, 
at  the  close  of  1875,  by  the  persevering  energy  of  the 
members  of  the  Art  Club  of  that  city,  and  was  opened 
to  the  public  in  their  rooms  in  Myrtle  Street.  No 
trouble  or  expense  was  spared  in  bringing  this  collec- 
tion together  from  all  quarters,  and  every  work  was 

p 


226 


DAVID  COX. 


insured  at  the  value  set  upon  it  by  the  owner ; the  sum 
total  reaching  to  about  one  hundred  thousand  pounds. 
The  collection  numbered  altogether  448  works  of  all 
periods  ; and,  notwithstanding  that  many  of  Cox’s 
finest  productions  could  not  be  had,  the  exhibition  was 
considered  fairly  representative  of  the  artist’s  genius. 
It  contained  fifty-seven  pictures  in  oil;  among  them 
were  some  of  Cox’s  best  works  of  the  kind.  The 
remainder  were  drawings  in  water-colours,  sepia,  and 
charcoal.  Of  those  in  charcoal  there  were  thirty-nine 
examples ; and  nearly  fifty  in  sepia.*  There  was  also 
one  pen-and-ink  sketch  from  nature,  dated  as  early  as 
1805,  and  contributed  by  the  author  of  this  Memoir. 
The  water-colour  drawings  were  exceedingly  varied  in 
character  and  subject,  and  showed  the  progress  made  by 
the  artist  from  the  commencement  to  the  close  of  his 
career.  The  following  notice  of  the  exhibition  is  taken 
from  The  Birmingham  Daily  Post  of  November  15th, 
1875,  the  proprietors  of  which  paper  sent  a special 
reporter  to  Liverpool,  to  furnish  an  account  of  the 
exhibition.  It  may  interest  some  to  know  the  names 
of  the  lenders  of  those  works  exhibited  on  that  occasion, 

* Cox  made  many  drawings  in  black  clialk,  charcoal,  and  sepia.  The 
majority  are  exceedingly  fine.  Of  those  in  chalk,  the  author  is  not  aware 
of  any  number  of  them  gathered  into  a collection ; but  Mr.  Perrins,  of 
Worcester,  possesses  about  thirty- six  beautiful  drawings  in  charcoal  (which 
he  lent  for  exhibition  in  the  Liverpool  Art  Club  collection);  and  Mr.  Alfred 
Betts,  of  Birmingham,  is  the  owner  of  a most  captivating  collection  of 
twenty  works  in  sepia.  Many  of  them  are  characterised  by  beauty  of 
subject  and  most  skilful  treatment.  Cox  produced  his  chalk  and  charcoal 
drawings  with  great  facility.  They  are  chiefly  studies  from  nature,  and 
are  exceedingly  effective.  He  usually  had  them  made  up  into  books,  con- 
taining about  a dozen  each. 


EXHIBITION  OF  HIS  WORKS  AT  LIVERPOOL.  227 


and  to  read  the  particulars  of  the  proceedings  on  the 
opening  day : — 

Among  the  many  movements  which  are  now  taking  place 
with  the  object  of  elevating  and  refining  the  artistic  taste  of 
Liverpool,  none  are  more  laudable  or  have  been  more  successful, 
than  the  exhibitions  held  from  time  to  time  by  the  Liverpool 
Art  Club,  which  was  established  about  two  years  ago,  largely 
through  the  exertions  of  Mr.  James  L.  Bowes  (who  is  well 
known  as  a most  thorough  and  devoted  student  of  Japanese  art), 
Mr.  P.  H.  Rathbone,  and  other  gentlemen  of  artistic  tastes.  Ex- 
hibitions have  been  held  of  specimens  of  goldsmiths’  art,  Japanese 
bronze,  lacquer- ware,  porcelain  manufacture,  etchings,  pictures  of 
living  and  of  deceased  British  artists,  Belgian  and  Dutch  pictures, 
embroidery,  and  other  interesting  art  specimens,  mainly  contri- 
buted by  gentlemen  residing  in  or  near  Liverpool.  The  promoters 
of  the  club  have  now  made  a collection  of  the  works  of  David 
Cox,  and  the  exhibition  will  be  opened  to  the  public  to-morrow,  the 
press  view  taking  place  on  Saturday.  The  committee  appear  to 
have  exercised  great  care  and  discretion  in  the  selection  of  the  pic- 
tures, which  have  been  readily  sent  by  collectors  from  all  parts  of 
the  country.  There  are  four  hundred  and  forty-eight  works  in  all, 
fifty-seven  of  which  are  in  oil,  and  the  remainder  in  water-colonr  and 
charcoal.  The  early,  middle,  and  later  styles  of  the  great  artist  are 
represented  by  many  fine  and  varied  examples.  The  oil-paintings 
include  “ Going  to  the  Hayfield,”  painted  in  1849,  and  contributed 
by  Mr.  Page,  of  Birmingham,  in  which  Cox’s  treatment  of  a simple 
rural  subject  is  very  powerfully  shown,  as  well  as  his  peculiarity  of 
giving  life  and  motion  to  figures ; the  “ Big  Meadow,  near  the 
‘ Royal  Oak,’  Bettws-y-coed,”  painted  in  1853,  contributed  by  Mr 
Holbrook  Gaskell;  “Flying  the  Kite’’  (1851),  also  contributed  by 
Mr.  Gaskell,  in  which  a fine  example  is  given  of  the  artist’s  power 
of  representing  space  and  distance,  and  the  play  of  the  wind  upon 
surrounding  objects.  The  “Welsh  Funeral,”  contributed  by  Mr. 
Gaskell,  is  one  of  the  scenes  which  had  evidently  impressed  Cox 
from  its  pathos  and  simplicity,  and  its  main  incidents  are  repeated 
in  some  other  works.  “ Darley  Churchyard”  (1850),  contributed  by 
Mr.  E.  Crompton  Potter,  is  a very  fine  specimen  of  colouring.  In 

V 2 


228 


DAVID  COX. 


“Windsor  Castle  and  Park”  (1846),  contributed  by  Mr.  F.  Nettle- 
fold,  of  London,  a noble  sweep  of  woodland  landscape  is  presented, 
crowned  by  the  castle  in  the  distance.  There  is  more  detail  tree- 
painting  in  the  “Skirts  of  the  Forest”  (1855 — 6),  contributed  by 
Mr.  J.  H.  Nettlefold,  of  Birmingham.  In  “Lancaster  Sands” 
(1855),  contributed  by  Mr.  J.  E.  Taylor,  of  Manchester,  there  is 
another  instance  of  the  painter’s  skill  in  investing  a simple,  and 
what  to  ordinary  minds  would  be  a common-place  subject,  with  the 
charms  of  imagination.  This  part  of  the  coast  was  one  of  his 
favourite  resorts,  and,  as  was  the  case  with  the  places  that  he  loved, 
he  painted  it  over  and  over  again  in  various  moods  of  weather  and 
atmosphere.  Of  Bettws,  where  Cox  also  delighted  to  dwell,  there 
are  many  interesting  memorials  in  the  collection,  both  amongst  the 
oil  and  water  colours ; while  there  are  numerous  illustrations  also  of 
the  wild  and  rugged  mountain  fastnesses  in  North  Wales,  where  the 
painter  was  wont  to  linger  in  his  more  active  days.  On  the  screens 
are  some  pictures  in  his  more  careful  and  finished  manner  ; and  the 
sepia  and  charcoal  drawings,  which  are  shown  in  rooms  up-stairs, 
contain  some  very  characteristic  and  interesting  sketches.  In  the 
main  gallery  is  exhibited  the  portrait  of  Cox,  by  Sir  J.  W.  Gordon, 
lent  by  the  Council  of  the  Birmingham  and  Midland  Institute. 
Amongst  the  Birmingham  and  other  local  contributors  are  Mrs. 
Bullock,  Mrs.  Betts,  Mrs.  Rhodes,  and  Messrs.  J.  Archer,  B.  L. 
Chance,  J.  T.  Collins,  Alfred  Betts,  John  Betts,  Wm.  Everitt, 
W.  Fallows,  Dr.  Bell  Fletcher,  Geo.  Graham,  Joseph  Gillott,  B. 
Hall,  Wm.  Hall,  J.  Hawkins,  J.  A.  Kenrick,  Wm.  Kenrick,  M. 
Lindner,  J.  H.  Mole,  J.  H.  Nettlefold,  T.  Page,  C.  T.  Parsons,  C. 
W.  Baddy ffe,  S.  Timings,  Horace  Woodward,  and  the  Bev.  C.  J. 
Sale,  of  Holt,  Worcester.  Prefixed  to  the  catalogue  is  an  introduc- 
tion written  by  Mr.  William  Hall — one  of  the  artist’s  most  intimate 
friends — giving  some  account  of  his  life,  his  method  of  working,  and 
a critical  notice  of  his  genius.  It  forms  a record  well  worth  per- 
manent keeping.  On  Saturday  the  members  of  the  club  and  con- 
tributors dined  together. 

The  dinner  alluded  to  in  the  foregoing  notice  was  a 
great  success.  The  following  account  of  it  is  taken 
from  the  Liverpool  Daily  Post  of  November  15th  : — 


EXHIBITION  OF  HIS  WORKS  AT  LIVERPOOL.  229 


To  celebrate  the  opening  of  the  exhibition,  the  President  of  the 
Art  Club,  Mr.  James  L.  Bowes,  invited  a number  of  gentlemen  to 
dine  at  the  Club  on  Saturday  evening,  and  afterwards  to  witness  the 
collection.  The  president  himself  occupied  the  chair,  and  there  were 
also  present,  Mr.  Benson  Bathbone,  Mr.  Wm.  Mathison,  Mr.  Arthur 
Robinson,  Mr.  Philip  H.  Bathbone,  the  Bev.  C.  Beard,  the  Bev.  C. 
Parnell,  Mr.  Holbrook  Gaskell  (Chairman  of  the  Cox  Exhibition 
Committee),  Mr.  Gustav  Busek,  Mr.  John  Finnie,  Mr.  W.  Hind, 
Mr.  C.  B.  Bussell,  Mr.  Louis  Greg,  Mr.  Enoch  Harvey,  Mr.  W.  IX 
Holt,  Mr.  Robert  D.  Holt,  Mr.  Gilbert  W.  Moss,  Mr.  E.  G.  Prange, 
and  Mr.  B.  H.  Grindley  (Secretary  of  the  Cox  Exhibition  Committee). 
The  following  contributors  from  a distance  were  also  present  : — 
Messrs.  C.  W.  Hadclyffe,  Birmingham ; H.  B.  Roberts,  Frederick 
Nettlefold,  London  ; J.  H.  Nettlefold,  Birmingham  ; E.  Stirling 
Howard,  Sheffield  ; Dr.  Bell  Fletcher,  Birmingham  ; Mr.  J.  Beaving- 
ton  Atkinson,  Hon.  Sec.  Burlington  Fine  Arts  Club,  London ; and 
Mr.  Edward  T.  Bellhouse,  President  Brazenose  Club,  Manchester. 

Speeches  were  delivered  by  Mr.  Bowes,  the  presi- 
dent ; by  Dr.  Bell  Fletcher,  Cox’s  medical  adviser ; Mr. 
Frederick  Nettlefold,  of  London ; Mr.  C.  W.  Badclyffe, 
of  Birmingham,  an  old  friend  of  David  Cox ; Mr. 
Holbrook  Graskell ; Mr.  E.  B.  Bussell,  who  responded 
for  the  Press;  Mr.  H.  B.  Boherts,  and  Mr.  J.  Finnie, 
who  represented  local  art.  The  speech  of  Mr.  Badclyffe, 
which  was  one  of  the  most  telling  addresses  delivered 
on  the  occasion,  and  which  gave  some  amusing  anecdotes 
and  interesting  information  respecting  Cox,  it  may  he 
desirable  to  preserve.  He  said  : — 

I thank  you,  Mr.  President,  for  the  kind  manner  in  which  you 
have  proposed  my  health.  It  is  a great  thing  for  men  immersed  in 
business,  as  you  gentlemen  are,  to  have  thrown  yourselves  so  heartily 
into  the  labour  of  getting  together  this  magnificent  collection  of  the 
works  of  David  Cox.  There  is  no  doubt  this  should  have  been  done 
in  his  native  town — Birmingham  ; but  failing  this,  and  as  Cox  was  a 


230 


DAVID  COX. 


man  for  all  places  and  all  men,  I have  felt  it  a great  privilege  to  afford 
you  all  the  aid  I could.  [Mr.  Badclyffe  arranged  the  collection  for 
the  Club.]  There  is  one  great  similarity  between  David  Cox  and 
myself — he  never  could,  and  never  did,  make  a speech.  When  his 
portrait  was  presented  to  him  at  a banquet  given  by  his  friend  Mr. 
Charles  Birch,  at  Metchley  Abbey,  I called  for  him  on  my  way 
thither,  and  said  he  would  have  to  make  a speech.  “ Oh,  no  ! ” he 
said,  “ I shan’t.”  Turning  to  his  old  servant,  Ann  Fowler,  he  said, 
“ Mind  and  have  my  bread  and  milk  ready  by  nine  o’clock  ! ” After 
his  health  had  been  drunk  at  the  dinner,  he  got  up,  and  in  a very 
few  words  thanked  us  all.  Soon  after,  he  turned  round  to  me,  and 
said  he  must  go,  as  he  was  sure  his  supper  was  ready.  I walked 
over  to  his  house  with  him,  and  he  took  his  simple  meal,  like  a school- 
boy, which  he  always  was,  for  Cox  never  got  old  in  mind  ; he  was 
always  fresh  and  simple  as  a child,  full  of  fun  and  small  jokes.  I 
remember  when  he  was  staying  at  my  father’s,  which  he  often  did  a 
month  at  a time.  My  father  and  he  used  frequently  to  spend  an 
evening  with  J.  V.  Barber,  the  artist,  who  generally  kept  them  very 
late.  [Mr.  Badclyffe  then  told  the  anecdote  of  Cox  and  the  old 
watchman,  narrated  in  the  body  of  this  work,  which  created  great 
amusement.  He  went  on  :] — We  often  hear  it  said,  in  much  sadness, 
when  one  of  Cox’s  pictures  is  sold  for  thousands,  when  he  only  had  a 
few  pounds  for  it,  “ Poor  fellow  ! what  a shame  he  did  not  reap  a 
better  reward  !”  I really  think  it  is  far  better  as  it  is.  No  man 
more  thoroughly  enjoyed  his  life.  His  habits  and  tastes  were  of  the 
most  simple  kind.  He  saved  what  to  him  was  a large  competency, 
and  a good  fortune  for  his  only  son.  His  house,  with  all  the  sur- 
roundings, was  a model  of  English  comfort.  Suppose  he  had  been 
besieged  by  patrons  and  dealers,  he  might  have  launched  out — I do 
not  say  he  would — into  extravagant  habits,  had  a huge  magnificent 
painting-room,  filled  with  all  the  paraphernalia  of  Wardour  Street ; 
he  might  have  k^pt  his  carriage,  taken  his  ’40  port,  and  died  twenty 
years  before  he  did  ; and  instead  of  being  remembered  by  troops  of 
friends  as  a dear,  simple  friend,  only  thought  of  as  a big  Mogul. 
No,  T would  not  like  his  life  to  have  been  changed  one  bit.  His 
troubles  and  sorrows  were  not  over-burdensome,  and  he  was  beloved 
by  all  who  came  in  contact  with  him.  I look  back  to  the  hours  I 
have  spent  with  him  with  a keen  relish  and  delight  few  can  realise  ; 


EXHIBITION  OF  HIS  WORKS  AT  LIVERPOOL.  231 


sitting  with  him  in  the  little  room  he  always  painted  in  when  at 
my  father’s,  whilst  very  often  my  mother  read  aloud.  On  one  occasion, 
I remember  she  read  “ Ben  Brace,”  by  Captain  Chamier.  Cox  in  one 
part  could  not  go  on  for  his  tears,  which  were  falling  fast  at  some  pa- 
thetic passage.  The  evenings  his  friend  William  Hall  and  myself  spent 
at  Greenfield,  are  photographed  in  my  mind,  never  to  be  forgotten. 
We  were  always  there  one  evening  in  each  week,  more  often  twice ; 
sometimes  to  tea,  always  to  supper,  just  half  a cigar,  whilst  we  looked 
over  a folio  of  drawings,  or  discussed  a great  subject  already  rubbed  in 
with  charcoal.  Sometimes  Cox  was  a little  out  of  spirits,  but  his  grum- 
blings were  short  and  sweet,  and  if  he  now  and  then  repined  at  his 
want  of  success,  he  never  envied  a more  fortunate  rival.  Turner, 
Muller,  De  Wint,  and  Copley  Fielding  are  great  names ; but  I question 
if  any  of  them  appeal  to  us  with  the  same  force  as  David  Cox.  W e allow 
their  genius  and  greatness,  but  there  is  something  irresistible  in  the 
works  of  Cox  ; their  grandeur  or  sweetness  touch  our  hearts  at  once. 
He  picked  up  incidents  and  effects  of  colour  and  sunshine  as  no  other 
man  ever  did  or  will  do.  Look  at  that  grand,  pathetic  picture, 
the  “ Welsh  Funeral  ” — solemn,  but  full  of  flowers  and  light  and 
hope ; nothing  dismal  or  funereal  about  it — a simple  peasant  going 
to  her  home  in  the  mountains.  Who  would  not  die,  to  have  such  a 
song  painted  over  him  1 Look  at  the  picture  called  the  “Skylark,’’ 
glittering  with  dew-drops  and  gorgeous  with  light.  Who  could  ever 
cage  a lark  after  looking  on  that  picture  h What  old  men  he  drew — 
tottering,  but  sturdy,  on  their  bandy  legs,  fit  mates  for  the  old 
women  driving  their  geese,  or  trudging  across  the  common  to  mar- 
ket ! Then  what  horses — shaggy-coated,  broad-chested,  made  to 
carry  the  old  fellow  who  is  asking  the  way  ! And  then  what  cows 
he  painted — real  farm-yard  dairy  cows,  horned  cattle  with  bones  and 
rough  hair,  not  the  sleek  things  we  too  often  see,  with  glossy  skins 
fit  for  dress-waistcoats  ! His  figures  were  always  well  drawn, 
always  appropriate,  and  we  feel  they  are  necessary  to  the  picture 
— which  is  rarely  the  case  with  figures  in  a landscape.  Cox  always 
seized  upon  something — either  a grand  or  simple  bit ; and  he  was 
always  at  work.  I remember  him  bringing  home  a very  lovely 
sketch  made  at  Sale,  of  a man  filling  a water-cart.  Once,  when 
sitting  painting  at  our  house,  my  mother  entered  the  room  draped  in 
deep  black.  Cox  called  to  her,  “ Stop  I ” and  made  a capital  sketch 


232 


DAVID  COX. 


of  her,  which  is  now  in  this  gallery.  Two  great  complaints  have 
been  made  against  him — one  that  he  never  could  “draw!” — 
what  a mercy  he  could  not ! — and  another,  he  had  never  gone  through 
freehand  drawing,  or  drawing  from  the  flat.  Another  was,  he  had 
no  imagination  ! Fancy,  with  an  incident  or  a story  in  every  sketch 
or  picture  he  ever  painted,  saying  he  had  no  imagination  ! ’Tis  a 
mercy  he  had  none  of  the  kind  they  mean,  or  we  might  have  had 
angels  and  nightmare  visions  enough  to  startle  a Dante  ! Although 
his  work  looks  so  easy,  no  man  was  so  difficult  to  please ; and  I have 
sat  by  him  when  he  has  torn  up  drawing  after  drawing.  He  knew 
no  tricks  in  art ; his  work  was  always  pure  and  simple.  He  used 
the  most  simple  colours  and  means  to  record  his  great  ideas.  A few 
days  before  he  died  he  went  up-stairs  leaning  on  the  arm  of  his  faithful 
Ann.  Stopping  at  his  painting-room  door,  he  looked  in  and  said, 
“ Good-bye,  pictures  ! Good-bye,  pictures  ! I shall  never  see  you  any 
more  ! ” and  he  never  did  ! 

In  connection  with  this  exhibition  of  the  works  of 
Cox,  and  arising  out  of  it,  was  the  publication  in 
September  of  the  following  year,  by  the  Liverpool  Art 
Club,  of  three  fine  engravings  after  Cox,  by  Mr.  Edward 
Badclyffe,  deceased,  entitled  the  “ Cox  Liber  Studiorum. 
The  following  extract  from  the  advertisement  prefixed 
will  explain  the  circumstances  under  which  the  publica- 
tion was  undertaken  : — 

The  Liverpool  Art  Club,  while  collecting  the  works  of  David 
Cox  for  the  exhibition  which  excited  so  general  an  interest  in  the 
autumn  of  1875,  learned  that  it  had  been  in  contemplation  to 
publish  a Cox  Liber  Studiorum,  devoted  to  the  special  qualities  of 
English  landscape  and  atmosphere,  and  engraved  in  that  method  of 
etching,  combined  with  mezzotint,  which  distinguishes  Turner’s 
Liber  Studiorum  from  other  engravings.  These  plates  were  com- 
pleted in  the  highest  style  of  art,  by  the  eminent  engraver,  and 
friend  of  David  Cox,  Edward  Radclyfle.  Death,  unhappily,  caused 
the  project  to  be  abandoned,  as  no  other  engraver  has  hitherto  been 
found  combining  all  the  qualities  necessary  to  overcome  the  diffi- 


THE  COX  “ LIBER  STUDIORUM.” 


233 


culties  of  the  task ; and  the  three  plates  have  remained  un- 
published until  now.  Those  who  examine  them  must  feel  that,  by 
the  untimely  death  of  Mr.  Radclyffe,  England  has  been  deprived  of 
a magnificent  tribute  to  the  peculiar  beauties  of  her  scenery,  and  to 
those  manifold  charms  of  her  skies  which  constitute  the  recompense 
for  the  variable  climate  which  causes  them. 

The  three  plates  were  acquired  by  the  Liverpool  Art  Club,  under 
the  guarantee  of  a few  of  its  members,  and  are  now  issued  under 
conditions  which  insure  that  none  but  the  very  finest  proof  impres- 
sions shall  exist.  The  issue  is  restricted  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  im- 
pressions, which  have  been  produced  without  the  slightest  perceptible 
deterioration.  Of  these  one  hundred  were  offered  to  members  of  this 
Club  and  the  Burlington  Fine  Arts  Club,  and  to  the  exhibitors  of  the 
Cox  Exhibition,  and  have  been  eagerly  taken  up.  Twenty-five  are 
to  be  distributed  amongst  the  chief  libraries  of  the  country,  and 
twenty-five  are  reserved  by  the  Club  as  a method  of  paying  an 
unique  compliment  to  those  whom  it  may  be  especially  desired  to 
recognise  as  earnest  workers  in  the  cause  of  Art. 

The  subjects  of  the  plates  are — First,  “ Dudley 
Castle,”  with  the  canal  and  limekilns  in  the  foreground. 
A very  fine  subject.  Second,  “ The  Outskirts  of  a 
Forest.”  A favourite  subject  of  the  artist.  Third, 
“ Bala  Lake,  North  Wales.”  A subject  of  remarkable 
beauty. 

The  work  was  published  by  Messrs.  Colnaghi  and 
Co.,  London,  for  the  Liverpool  Art  Club.  The 
admirers  of  David  Cox  will  regret  that  Mr.  Edward 
Kadclyffe  did  not  live  to  complete  the  task  he  had  pro- 
posed to  himself : to  render  the  “Cox  Liber  Studiorum” 
a comprehensive  exhibition  of  the  artist’s  genius  and 
power. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


(ADDITIONAL BY  THE  EDITOR.) 

Supplementary  Notes — Cox’s  Great  Contemporaries — Birmingham  Friends — 

Character  and  Habits — Engravings — Prices— Sales,  Chronology,  &c. 

A few  notes  are  needed  to  supplement  in  some  respects 
the  Memoir  of  David  Cox  prepared  by  Mr.  Hall.  They 
are  necessarily  of  a somewhat  discursive  character,  as 
they  merely  aim  at  supplying  omissions  in  the  Memoir ; 
hut  the  writer  hopes  they  will  not  be  found  wanting  in 
usefulness  and  interest. 

The  writer  of  the  Memoir,  it  will  he  observed,  makes 
no  attempt  to  fix  the  place  of  Cox  in  relation  to  water- 
colour art,  historically  ; nor  does  he  enter  upon  any  com- 
parison of  Cox  with  his  more  eminent  contemporaries. 
Such  an  estimate,  indeed,  belongs  to  a history  of  Water- 
colour Art  in  this  country ; a work  which  would  be  of 
high  value,  if  it  were  executed  by  some  competent  person, 
and  would  supply  a deficiency  which  is  now  seriously 
felt.  The  only  attempt  to  deal  systematically  with  the 
subject  is  to  be  found  in  Mr.  Samuel  Redgrave’s  “De- 
scriptive Catalogue  of  the  Historical  Collection  of  Water- 
colour Paintings  in  the  South  Kensington  Museum ; ” 
but  this  work,  though  most  interesting  and  useful  so  far 
as  it  extends,  does  not  profess  to  enter  upon  a compara- 
tive critical  examination  of  the  English  Water-colour 
School.  The  revival  and  development  of  this  branch  of 


ENGLISH  WATER-COLOUR  PAINTERS. 


235 


Art  is  due  to  the  remarkable  company  of  water-colour 
painters  who  were  contemporary  with  Cox.  The  practical 
founder  of  the  School,  Thomas  Grirtin,  was  horn  in  1773, 
ten  years  before  Cox.  He  was  followed  in  1774  by 
George  Barret,  and  in  1775  by  Turner,  the  great  master 
of  landscape  art;  John  Yarley  was  horn  in  1778  ; John 
Sell  Cotman  in  1782  ; Cox  himself  in  1783  ; Samuel 
Prout  in  the  same  year;  Peter  de  Wint  in  1784  ; and 
Copley  Fielding  in  1787.  Thus,  no  period  of  Water- 
colour Art  is  more  brilliant,  or  presents  such  an  array  of 
memorable,  and  even  illustrious  contemporary  painters. 
Of  these,  setting  Turner  aside,  Cox  is  beyond  comparison 
the  most  widely  known,  and  the  greatest,  alike  in  his 
range,  the  vigour  of  his  method,  and  his  direct  appeal  to 
the  sympathy,  and,  it  may  be  justly  said,  the  affection  of 
picture -lovers.  His  hold  upon  the  public  mind  is  most 
remarkable  in  one  respect,  as  compared  with  his  con- 
temporaries. They  seem  to  have  receded  into  the  far 
distance — so  to  speak,  they  have  become  “old  masters.” 
Ho  one  thinks  of  Yarley  or  Barret,  or  Cotman,  or 
De  Wint,  or  Copley  Fielding,  as  within  the  range  of 
personal  memory.  With  Cox  it  is  widely  different.  He 
seems  to  be  still  amongst  us,  or  so  close  to  our  time  that 
he  still  is  felt  as  an  almost  actual  presence.  Yet  it  is 
now  nearly  a century  since  his  birth  ; and  nearly  a 
generation  has  elapsed  since  the  period  of  his  death. 
The  preservative  influence  which  has  kept  him  so  close 
to  us,  in  honour  as  a painter  and  in  affection  as  a man, 
seems  to  be  of  a twofold  character : his  infinite  variety 
in  the  choice  of  subject,  his  fidelity  to  Nature,  and  his 


236 


DAVID  COX. 


keen  sympathy  with,  her  homelier  aspects ; and  the 
sweet  and  tender  qualities  of  his  personal  character,  and 
the  simplicity  and  friendliness  of  his  life.  On  the  former 
of  these  topics  enough  has  been  said  in  Mr.  Hall’s 
Memoir.  On  the  latter,  those  who  knew  David  Cox — 
and  there  are  some  of  these  still  left  in  Birmingham — 
are  never  tired  of  talking.  “ Old  Farmer  Cox,” 
Turner  used  to  call  him ; “ Dear  old  David  Cox,”  was 
the  familiar  expression  of  his  friends.  These  two 
designations  paint  the  man  for  us  with  force  and  truth- 
fulness : the  former  expresses  his  bluff,  hearty,  homely, 
farmer-like,  out-of-doors  kind  of  manner ; the  latter 
sums  up,  in  one  sentence,  the  moral  and  mental  qualities 
which  endeared  Cox  to  all  who  came  frequently  into 
intercourse  with  him.  Modesty,  simplicity,  truthful- 
ness, singleness  of  purpose — these  were  the  notes  of  his 
character  ; they  are  apparent  in  his  works  and  in  his  life. 
There  was  no  trace  of  mere  selfishness  about  David  Cox. 
He  was  content  with  modest  gains  from  the  exercise  of 
his  art ; he  never  vaunted  himself  or  his  powers,  he 
never  sought  commendation,  or  repined  at  not  receiving 
it ; he  never  depreciated  the  merits  of  other  painters,  in 
order  indirectly  to  exalt  his  own.  Indeed,  even  at  the 
height  of  his  fame,  and  in  the  maturity  of  his  powers,  he 
had  always  a feeling,  often  expressed  in  his  own  quiet 
way,  that  others  could  do  better  work,  or  could  do  it 
more  easily,  than  himself.  Sensitive  he  was,  doubtless 
— that  is  inseparable  from  the  artist  nature — hut  he 
never  permitted  this  feeling  to  pass  into  a morbid  phase. 
N o fretful  complaint  ever  passed  his  lips  at  the  fuller 


SIMPLICITY  OF  HIS  CHARACTER. 


237 


measure  of  popular  appreciation  or  of  pecuniary  success 
attained  by  painters  of  capacity  inferior  to  his  own. 

On  the  contrary,  his  tendency  was  to  self-deprecia- 
tion, and  to  a generous  recognition  of  the  claims  of  his 
contemporaries.  The  simplicity  of  his  character  can  he 
justly  described  only  as  being  child-like.  He  was 
invariably  trustful,  very  faithful  to  his  friends,  open 
and  candid  with  them,  frank  in  his  intercourse,  honest 
in  the  expression  of  his  opinions,  and  most  desirous  that 
his  friends  should  be  just  as  honest  and  frank  with  him. 
He  was  eminently  a social  man ; nothing  gave  him 
greater  delight  than  the  company  of  a few  attached 
friends — in  the  studio,  on  sketching  excursions,  in  a 
pleasant  country  walk,  in  familiar  conversation  after 
working  hours.  The  even  temperament  of  his  mind 
especially  fitted  him  to  enjoy  such  intercourse.  As- 
sumption was  wholly  foreign  to  him,  and  hateful.  He 
had  no  testiness  ; occasionally  he  grew  warm  in  argu- 
ment, but  he  was  never  passionate  or  unjust,  and  the 
display  of  warmth  was  but  momentary.  To  those 
commonly  about  him  he  was  invariably  courteous  and 
kind;  few  men  kept  servants  so  long  as  he  did,  or 
received  from  them  such  loving  attention ; yet  the 
simple  dignity  of  his  character  and  bearing  effectually 
prevented  the  familiarity  which  breeds  contempt.  All 
who  approached  him  felt  this : it  was  impossible  to  be 
rude  with  David  Cox,  or  to  be  irreverent,  or  coarse,  or 
even  rough  in  his  company.  Even  those  who  saw  him 
but  rarely  felt  the  influence  which,  as  if  by  instinct, 
commanded  respect,  while  it  inspired  affection.  There 


238 


DAVID  COX. 


was,  in  truth,  an  air  of  goodness  about  him  which  made 
itself  recognised  without  assertion.  It  was  the  same 
with  his  religious  feeling.  In  this  there  was  no 
ostentation,  hut,  nevertheless,  there  was  an  obvious 
sincerity,  too  plain  to  be  mistaken ; not  that  he  was  in 
any  degree  sombre,  nor  was  there  in  him  any  touch  of 
Pharisaism.  His  religion  was  part  of  his  daily  life, 
just  as  was  his  devotion  to  art,  and  his  fulfilment  of  all 
that  seemed  to  him  to  be  a duty.  Cheerfulness  was  a 
marked  characteristic  of  David  Cox.  He  talked  with 
ease  and  vivacity ; he  liked  a harmless  joke  or  a good 
story ; he  was  an  especial  favourite  with  young  people ; 
and  he  loved  music,  provided  it  was  lively.  This  last- 
named  taste  survived  to  his  later  years.  Once  he 
showed  it  in  a remarkable  way.  A lady  to  whom  he 
was  much  attached — Mrs.  Everitt,  the  wife  of  his  old 
friend  Mr.  Edward  Everitt — played  some  lively  dance 
music  in  his  hearing.  Cox  hade  her  repeat  it ; and 
then  he  broke  out  into  a quick  step,  accordant  with  the 
tune.  It  reminded  him,  he  said,  of  His  early  days  at 
the  theatre ; yet,  so  far  as  the  writer  knows,  he  rarely, 
if  ever,  entered  a theatre  after  the  severance  of  his 
connection  with  Macready’s  company;  certainty  never 
in  his  maturer  life.  In  fact,  he  felt  no  want  of  amuse- 
ment ; his  art  supplied  him  with  recreation  as  well  as 
occupation.  His  old  friends  well  remember  that  all  his 
talk  was  of  Art — its  pleasures,  its  incidents,  its  practice  ; 
of  work  achieved  or  contemplated ; of  sketching  tours 
past  or  prospective.  His  letters — the  few  he  wrote,  for 
he  cared  little  for  correspondence — are  full  of  the  same 


THE  UNITY  OF  HIS  LIFE. 


239 


topic ; and  even  in  his  hours  of  idleness,  when  visiting 
friends  or  receiving  them,  he  commonly  asked  for  paper 
and  pencil,  and  busied  himself  in  drawing.  Art,  indeed, 
was  his  life ; from  the  day  on  which  a kind  friend  in 
his  boyhood  gave  him  a colour-box,  to  the  hour  when 
he  took  his  pathetic  farewell  of  his  pictures,  his  whole 
time  and  thought  and  affection  were  given  to  Art. 
It  was  a life  very  noble  in  its  unity  of  aim,  in  its 
firmness  of  purpose,  in  its  industry,  in  its  courage 
before  obstacles,  in  the  fulness  of  its  triumph  — a 
life  that  confers  rare  distinction  upon  the  man  who 
lived  it,  and  that  enriches  the  annals  of  the  Art  he 
loved. 

The  simplicity  and  modesty  of  Cox’s  personal  charac- 
ter were  admirably  expressed  in  his  house  and  his  mode  of 
living.  Plain,  homely  comfort,  in  furniture,  in  dress,  in 
food,  was  all  that  he  cared  for  ; he  was  singularly  tem- 
perate, though  never  ascetic,  nor  even  markedly  abstemi- 
ous. Neatness  and  exquisite  cleanliness  characterised  his 
person  and  his  home  ; but  there  was  no  luxury,  and  little 
ornament.  Of  books  he  had  very  few  ; he  was  not  a 
cultured  man,  in  this  aspect  of  culture  ; his  education 
was  drawn  from  the  great  book  of  Nature,  and  this  he 
knew  so  thoroughly,  and  loved  so  well,  that  he  was 
master  of  it.  He  found  its  lessons  hard  to  construe, 
sometimes,  and  harder  to  interpret  ; but  if  he  failed  he 
tried  again,  with  patient  humbleness  and  earnest  per- 
severance, and  thus,  in  each  effort,  he  finally  mastered  the 
secret  that  lay  hidden  in  the  object  of  his  study.  Cox 
never  complained,  like  Fuseli,  that  “ Nature  put  him 


240 


DAVID  COX. 


out ! ” He  had  learned,  rather,  with  Wordsworth, 
that — 

“ Nature  never  did  betray 
The  heart  that  loved  her.” 

It  was  not  until  after  his  death  that  the  world  began 
to  appreciate  David  Cox  in  his  full  greatness,  and  to 
recognise  his  true  place  in  art.  A few  discerning  critics, 
and  a little  band  of  attached  friends,  understood  him 
perfectly  in  his  lifetime,  hut  the  bulk  of  people  who 
professed  to  care  for  art  have  only  of  late  years  discerned 
that  as  a master  of  English  landscape  he  stands  un ap- 
proached save  by  Turner,  and  that  in  some  respects  he 
surpassed  Turner  himself.  His  range  of  art  is  mar- 
vellous, alike  as  to  period,  to  subject,  and  to  manner.  Eor 
over  fifty  years  he  was  a painter,  skilled  in  resource, 
unsurpassed  in  industry  ; there  was  nothing  that  he  did 
not  include  in  his  works — landscape,  figures,  buildings, 
animals,  fish,  fruit,  still  life,  flowers  ; the  commonest  and 
most  familiar  aspects  of  Nature,  her  subtlest  gradations, 
her  sublimest  effects,  all  found  perfect  expression  by 
means  of  his  facile  and  powerful  brush.  His  manner 
was  as  varied  as  his  range  of  subject.  His  early  style 
was  dry,  hard,  and  somewhat  formal,  but  marked  by 
indications  of  power  and  freedom  that  were  afterwards 
to  ripen  into  splendid  maturity.  In  his  second  manner, 
or  middle  period,  he  exhibited  perfect  command  over 
materials,  elaborate  finish,  most  careful  and  refined  draw- 
ing, exquisitely  tender  and  even  brilliant  colour.  In  his 
later  manner  he  is  full  of  deeper  colour,  broad  in  treatment, 
grand  and  striking  in  effect.  Some  of  the  drawings  of 


INDIVIDUALITY  OF  HIS  WORKS. 


241 


this  period,  especially  those  executed  on  rough  paper,  of 
which,  in  his  later  years,  he  was  peculiarly  fond,  have 
been  disparaged  as  coarse,  dauby,  and  blotty.  But  those 
who  study  them  with  care,  and  get  to  understand  the 
painter’s  intentions,  cannot  fail  to  recognise  their  wonder- 
ful power,  and  to  see  in  these  generalised  views  of 
Nature  the  work  of  a perfectly  trained  hand,  and  the 
evidence  of  a mind  full  of  resource  ; the  work  of  a 
master,  indeed,  who  had  the  key  to  the  great  mystery, 
and  was  bent  upon  plucking  out  the  heart  of  it. 

Cox  was  no  imitator,  no  learner  from  other  painters, 
no  follower  of  a school ; whatever  he  did  had  his  own 
individuality  stamped  full  and  clear  upon  it.  You  pick 
him  out  at  once,  let  whatever  may  he  put  in  competi- 
tion with  him.  Even  in  his  merest  indications  of  a 
subject  there  is  an  obvious  completeness  which  few 
painters  attain ; his  work  is  thoroughly  studied ; before 
he  begins  he  knows  what  he  intends  to  do ; he  does 
it,  leaving  nothing  to  chance,  or  to  the  help  of  happy 
accident,  or  undesigned  effect.  Thus  his  pictures  are 
truthful  in  the  highest  sense,  and,  especially  in  those 
of  his  later  years,  they  have  the  great  quality  of 
suggestiveness,  the  result  of  the  painter’s  own  powerful 
imagination,  aided  by  his  mastery  over  execution,  and 
his  long  and  intimate  study  of  the  phases  of  Nature. 
As  Cox  himself  said  of  his  own  works,  he  strives  to 
exhibit  the  superiority  of  mind  over  mechanism.  Yet, 
though  conscious  of  this  aim,  he  was  uniformly  modest, 
and  inclined  to  depreciate  his  own  power.  To  the  last 
he  fancied  there  were  secrets  known  to  oil  painters 
Q 


242 


DAVID  COX . 


which  he  could  never  discover.  When  in  London,  he 
thought  so  little  of  his  powers  that  he  used  to  destroy 
many  of  his  drawings,  and  put  the  fragments  down  a 
sewer  grating,  in  a particular  spot,  which  he  once 
showed  to  a friend,  saying  that  many  of  his  works  had 
gone  down  there,  and  floated  off  to  the  Thames.  Even 
in  the  height  of  his  power  he  would  sometimes  destroy 
a morning’s  work  at  Bettws,  tearing  up  the  paper,  or 
painting  out  on  the  canvas.  He  had  no  trace  of  con- 
ceit or  self-satisfaction  in  his  work.  Though  valuing 
honest  praise  from  those  who  could  judge  it,  he 
never  allowed  the  good  opinion  of  his  friends  to  lead 
him  into  undue  self- appreciation.  Simple,  as  we  have 
seen,  in  his  character,  tastes,  habits,  appearance,  and 
mode  of  life,  he  was  simple  also  in  the  materials  he 
used,  always  choosing  the  fewest  colours,  and  those 
which  were  tried  and  proved  for  endurance ; and  he 
was  simple  likewise  in  the  directness  of  his  purpose,  and 
consequently  in  the  effect  of  his  work.  Thus  arises  one 
of  his  greatest  charms — the  homeliness,  and,  so  to 
speak,  the  friendliness  of  his  pictures.  Even  the 
grandest  of  them  have  this  quality.  We  see  in  them 
what  he  wished  us  to  see,  and  we  see  also  something 
of  the  character  of  the  man  himself.  In  his  company 
we  forget  the  studio,  and  go  straight  out  of  doors,  on 
the  moor,  into  the  shady  lanes  and  open  fields,  among 
the  trees,  by  the  river-side,  on  the  mountain  crag ; we 
stand  in  the  full  warm  sunlight,  or  breast  the  storm, 
or  shrink  from  the  dull  chillness  of  “ the  level  waste, 
the  rounding  grey.”  Throughout  the  whole  series  of 


REASONS  FOR  RETURNING  TO  BIRMINGHAM.  243 


Cox’s  works  there  is  the  same  feeling;  it  is  Nature 
strongly  tinged  with  his  own  individuality,  that  he 
presents  to  us — never  a mere  transcript  of  outline,  or 
detail,  or  colour;  but  a subject  carefully  chosen,  well 
thought  out,  enriched  with  its  due  effect,  heightened 
by  appropriate  and  studied  incident,  the  fulfilment  of 
a definite  purpose,  the  presentment  of  some  phase  of 
grandeur  or  beauty,  discernible  in  its  completeness 
only  through  the  mind  of  the  artist  himself ; and  this 
so  rendered  as  to  suggest  more  even  than  it  directly 
conveys.  It  is  thus  that  he  makes  friends  of  those  who 
are  alike  lovers  of  Nature  and  Art.  It  is  thus  that  he 
elicits  from  the  most  cultivated  and  the  most  unin- 
structed, a response  alike  in  kind,  though  differing  in 
degree. 


Surprise  has  been  expressed  that  Cox  should  have 
quitted  London,  with  all  its  attractions  and  advan- 
tages, and  should  have  retired  to  Birmingham,  at  a 
period  when  he  might  have  been  expected  to  take  a 
foremost  place  amongst  water-colour  painters  in  the 
metropolis.  The  reasons  which  induced  him  to  make 
the  change  may  be  readily  understood.  In  London 
he  was  largely  engaged  in  teaching,  and  this  occu- 
pation, never  agreeable  to  him,  became  hateful  as  he 
grew  older.  Towards  the  last,  it  is  known  that  but 
for  the  influence  of  his  wife  he  would  often  have 
refused  to  fulfil  his  teaching  engagements.  Sometimes 
she  had  literally  to  take  him  to  the  houses  at  which 
Q 2 


244 


DAVID  COX. 


he  had  engaged  to  give  lessons ; and  it  was  only  on 
her  account  that  he  consented  to  submit  to  the  drudgery 
for  so  long  a period.  His  great  aim,  at  that  period, 
was  to  make  a secure  provision  for  her,  and  to  lay  by 
something  for  his  own  old  age ; for  he  was  keenly  sensi- 
tive to  family  obligations,  and  his  own  sense  of  personal 
independence  was  forcibly  developed.  No  sooner  was 
the  object  above  mentioned  fairly  secured,  than  Cox 
felt  an  over-mastering  desire  to  break  loose  from  the 
life  of  a drawing-master ; and  the  fact  that  David  Cox 
the  younger  was  willing  to  take  this  work  off  his 
hands,  and  to  trust  largely  to  it  as  a means  of  living 
for  himself,  quickened  desire  into  determination. 
Freedom  was  a passion  with  David  Cox ; liberty  of 
movement ; release  from  regular  engagements ; liberty 
to  devote  himself  wholly  to  art,  and  time  and  means 
to  practise  it  in  his  owrn  way,  and  wherever  he  would. 
By  returning  to  Birmingham  he  secured  this  object 
effectually.  He  lived  amongst  charming  scenery,  for  the 
village  of  Harborne  was  then  a delightful  rural  retreat ; 
he  had  easy  access  to  his  favourite  sketching-grounds ; 
he  had  perfect  mastery  of  his  time  and  movements ; 
and  he  had  also,  what  was  essential  both  to  his  hap- 
piness and  to  his  progress  in  art,  the  society  of  a circle 
of  attached  and  intelligent  friends,  some  of  them 
painters,  like  himself,  and  others  amateurs  of  rare  cul- 
tivation and  capacity.  The  artistic  society  to  be  found 
in  Birmingham  and  its  neighbourhood  was,  just 
then,  of  a remarkable  character.  One  of  the  best  of 
English  engravers,  Mr.  William  Badclyffe,  one  of  Cox’s 


Ills  BIRMINGHAM  FRIENDS. 


245 


oldest  friends,  lived  there.  Amongst  the  resident  artists 
were  Mr.  Samuel  Lines,  from  whose  drawing-school  pro- 
ceeded many  painters  and  engravers  of  note ; Mr.  Hen- 
shaw,  whose  fame  as  a painter  of  woodland  and  mountain 
scenery  will  probably,  some  day,  equal  Cox’s  own  repu- 
tation ; Mr.  Hall,  the  author  of  the  “ Memoirs  ” now 
before  the  reader;  Mr.  Peter  Hollins,  sculptor ; and  Mr. 
Charles  Badclyffe,  the  son  of  the  engraver.  Besides 
these  there  were  Mr.  William  Boberts,  upon  whose 
instruction  in  oil-painting  Cox  especially  relied,  and 
with  whom  he  maintained  close  and  affectionate  inti- 
macy ; Mr.  Edward  Everitt,  an  old  and  faithful  artist 
friend,  and  an  early  purchaser  of  his  works ; Mr. 
Charles  Birch,  an  amateur  and  collector  of  note,  who 
had  then  a fine  gallery  of  works  by  modern  English 
masters ; and,  finally,  Mr.  Charles  Hawker,  a picture 
lover,  as  well  as  a picture  dealer,  to  whom  English  Art 
is  indebted  in  a special  manner.  This  may  seem  a 
bold  thing  to  say,  but  it  is  true,  for  Mr.  Hawker 
was  one  of  the  earliest  dealers  to  perceive  that  the 
modern  English  School  had  been  too  long  overshadowed 
by  an  excessive  regard  for  the  productions  of  the  so- 
called  Old  Masters.  Holding  this  belief,  and  recog- 
nising the  merits  of  many  young  English  painters, 
he  set  himself  to  the  task  of  making  their  works 
popular  within  the  range  of  his  influence.  He  was, 
for  example,  a strong  advocate  of  the  works  of 
the  Norwich  School- — the  Cromes,  Stark,  Cotman,  Vin- 
cent, &c.  He  brought  into  Birmingham  the  first  work 
known  there  by  Muller  (this  was  as  early  as  1834),  and 


246 


DAVID  COX. 


lie  afterwards  was  tlie  means  of  placing  some  of  Muller’s 
finest  works  in  the  galleries  of  collectors  in  the  Mid- 
lands. Acting  largely  on  Mr.  Hawker’s  advice,  several 
Birmingham  collectors,  and  others  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, bought  fine  samples  of  such  painters  as  Turner, 
Etty,  Collins,  Mulready,  Erith,  and  others ; and  to  him, 
in  a great  measure,  was  due  the  formation  of  Mr. 
Gillott’s  famous  gallery,  Mr.  ITawker,  in  the  later  years 
of  his  life,  being  intimately  associated  with  Mr.  Gillott, 
and  giving  his  whole  attention  to  that  gentleman’s  collec- 
tion. The  persons  above  mentioned,  with  the  addition  of 
a few  well-known  collectors,  formed  a sort  of  Cox  circle  in 
Birmingham,  and,  though  at  first  they  had  hard  work 
to  persuade  others  of  the  genius  of  Cox,  their  own 
appreciation  of  him  was  intense,  and  their  faith  in  his 
future  fame  never  wavered.  Indeed,  they  proved  the 
fidelity  of  their  regard  by  buying  Cox’s  works  at  the 
time  when  these  came  repeatedly  back  unsold,  and 
sometimes  unhung,  from  the  exhibitions ; and  the 
soundness  of  their  judgment  has  long  since  been  esta- 
blished by  the  general  opinion. 

There  is  no  doubt,  as  Mr.  Hall  tells  us  in 
his  Memoir,  that  Cox  derived  not  only  exquisite 
pleasure,  but  likewise  valuable  encouragement  and 
useful  hints  from  those  who  were  his  intimates  at 
Birmingham,  and  the  attractions  of  whose  society 
largely  induced  him  to  return  finally  to  his  na- 
tive town.  Cox  was  so  modest  and  self-distrusting 
that  he  needed  encouragement.  It  has  already  been 
stated  that  he  destroyed  drawing  after  drawing  under 


Ills  WIFE’S  INFLUENCE  UPON  HIM. 


247 


the  impression  that  he  had  made  failures  where 
he  hoped  for  successes.  Sometimes,  also,  after  he 
began  to  work  in  oil,  he  would  efface  the  product  of  a 
day’s  labour  in  a fit  of  temporary  disgust  and  despair. 
On  this  point  his  old  friend  Mr.  Charles  Baddy ffe  writes 
to  me  : “ One  great  characteristic  I well  remember  of  Cox 
was  that  if  he  did  not  like  a picture  he  seldom  altered  it. 
In  going  through  an  exhibition  with  him  I would  say,  ‘ I 
don’t  like  that  picture,  Mr.  Cox  ; ’ then  he  would  rejoin, 

‘ Then  why  do  you  look  at  it  ? ’ Despondent  over  his 
own  work,  and  ever  finding  much  fault  with  it,  he  was 
always  tearing  up,  day  after  day,  to  begin  again  and 
again.  Often  he  drew  tears  from  his  wife,  who  would 
exclaim,  ‘ Don’t,  David  ! don’t  destroy  that  drawing,’ 
and  would  rescue  some  admirable  study  which  her 
husband  was  tearing  up,  or  thrusting  into  the  fire.” 
This  reference  to  his  wife  is  confirmed  by  another  friend 
of  Cox’s,  Mr.  Allen  Everitt,  the  son  of  one  of  his  oldest 
friends,  who  relates  that  Cox  has  often  told  him  that, 
especially  in  his  London  life,  he  never  should  have  done 
half  he  actually  did,  but  for  his  wife’s  persuasions.  He 
was,  Mr.  Everitt  says,  tenderly  attached  to  her;  in- 
deed, he  did  nothing  without  her  advice,  referring  to 
her  judgment  continually  both  as  to  the  subjects  he 
took  and  their  treatment.  She  was  a sensible,  intelligent 
woman,  with  an  intense  enjoyment  of  Art,  and  a high 
critical  faculty,  modestly  and  very  quietly  expressed. 
It  was  her  husband’s  delight  to  have  her  near  him  whilst 
he  painted  at  home.  She  used  to  sit  close  to  him,  in  a 
high-backed  chair — Mrs.  Cox’s  chair,  it  was  called — 


248 


DAVID  COX. 


while  he  worked  in  the  bay  window  of  their  sitting-room 
at  Greenfield. 


Reference  has  been  made  in  Mr.  Hall’s  Memoir 
to  Cox’s  methods  and  principles  of  working.  It  is 
interesting  to  turn  to  the  artist’s  own  observations  on 
these  points,  as  conveyed  in  his  publications  and 
letters. 

In  a letter  of  advice  to  Mr.  David  Cox,  jun.  (Novem- 
ber 14,  1842),  he  speaks  of  his  methods  of  working  in 
water-colours  : — 

Try  by  lamplight  a subject  in  charcoal,  and  don't  be  afraid  of 
darks,  and  work  up  the  subject  throughout  with  charcoal  in  the  darks, 
middle  tint  and  half,  and  with  some  very  spirited  touches  in  parts 
to  give  a marking.  When  you  have  done  all  this,  have  your  colours 
quite  soft,  and  colour  upon  the  charcoal.  Get  all  the  depth  of  the 
charcoal,  and  be  not  afraid  of  the  colour.  When  you  look  at  it  by 
daylight,  and  clean  it  with  bread,  you  will  find  a number  of  light 
parts  which  have  been  left  where  the  colour  would  not  exactly 
adhere  over  the  charcoal.  For  a distant  mountain  I have  used 
cobalt  and  vermilion ; and  in  the  greyer  part  I mix  a little  lake 
and  a small  quantity  of  yellow  ochre  with  the  cobalt.  In  the  middle 
distance  I work  each  part  separately  ; in  fact,  something  like  mosaic 
work.  The  foreground  the  same,  taking  care  to  leave  the  reflected 
lights  clear  for  a distant  cool  or  bluish  tint.  I use  very  sensitive 
colours  for  the  middle  distance — for  green,  indigo,  lake,  and 
gamboge,  with  its  varieties ; occasionally,  for  the  rocks,  cobalt, 
vermilion,  or  yellow  ochre,  and  sometimes  lake  instead  of  the 
vermilion.  Jn  the  foreground  I use  indigo  and  Vandyke  brown,  and 
indigo  and  brown-pink — sometimes  add  sepia  to  the  indigo  and 
brown-pink.  I use  for  the  grey  in  the  sky  cobalt  and  vermilion  ; 
and  for  the  more  neutral  grey  cobalt  and  light  red. 

In  another  letter  to  his  son  David,  dated  from 


HIS  ADVICE  AS  TO  THE  USE  OF  COLOURS.  249 


Harborne,  December  31,  1845,  he  describes  his  method 
of  working  in  oil  colour : — 

In  your  darks  you  will  use  the  transparent  colours ; and  if  you 
were  to  procure  a pot  of  some  fine  powder  of  plaster  of  Paris  to  mix 
with  the  transparent  colours,  it  assists  to  give  them  a substance 
without  making  them  look  opaque.  In  your  greens  or  half 
lights  also  use  a little  of  the  plaster  of  Paris,  and  so  on  till  you  come 
to  the  high  lights,  when  you  may  use  Naples  yellow,  lemon  yellow, 
and  also  yellow  ochre.  White,  I think,  must  be  cautiously  used, 
only  in  such  sparkling  touches  as  Constable  did ; but  there  are 
occasions  where  white  must  be  used,  in  very  pale  greens,  upon  dock 
leaves,  &c.  I use  the  same  colour,  or  nearly  the  same,  for  oil  as  in 
water ; for  instance,  light  red  and  cobalt  for  extreme  distances,  and 
::o  on  towards  the  middle  distance,  where  I should  begin  with  a 
light  Prussian  blue  and  light  red,  and  in  the  nearer  part  Prussian 
blue  and  burnt  Sienna,  and  a light  red,  all  three  together ; and  in 
i he  foreground  bitumen  and  Prussian  blue.  The  second  green,  or 
half  lights,  with  Prussian  blue,  light  red,  and  yellow  ochre,  and  vary 
it  with  raw  sienna ; the  high  lights  with  an  addition  of  lemon 
yellow  and  Naples  yellow  ; but  you  will  find  terra  vert  and  ivory 
black,  or  terra  vert  and  raw  umber,  very  good  ; terra  vert  is  a most 
useful  colour.  Do  not  use  Indian  red  in  your  greens ; as  I said 
before,  use  light  red,  and  work  in  the  compounding  of  your  tints  in 
a very  similar  way  to  what  you  would  in  water-colour  painting. 


The  main  principles  npon  which  Cox  based  his 
works  may  be  gathered  from  his  “ Treatise  on  Land- 
scape Painting  ; ” the  ideas  are  manifestly  his  own, 
though  the  dress  in  which  he  presented  them  was 
probably  shaped  by  some  one  more  accustomed  to  literary 
composition  : — 

The  principal  art  of  landscape  painting  consists  in  conveying  to 
the  mind  the  most  forcible  effect  which  can  be  produced  from  the 
various  classes  of  scenery  which  possess  the  power  of  exciting  an 


250 


DAVID  COX. 


interest  superior  to  that  resulting  from  any  other  effects  and  which 
can  only  be  obtained  by  a most  judicious  selection  of  particular 
tints,  and  a skilful  arrangement  and  application  of  them  to  difference 
in  time,  seasons,  and  situations.  This  is  the  grand  principle  upon 
which  pictorial  excellence  hinges,  as  many  pleasing  objects,  the  com- 
bination of  which  render  a piece  perfect,  are  frequently  passed  over 
by  an  observer  because  the  whole  of  the  composition  is  not  under  the 
influence  of  a suitable  effect.  Thus  a cottage  or  a village  scene 
requires  a soft  or  a simple  admixture  of  tones,  calculated  to  produce 
pleasure  without  astonishment.  On  the  contrary,  the  structures  of 
greatness  and  antiquity  should  be  marked  by  a character  of  awful 
sublimity,  suited  to  the  dignity  of  the  subjects,  indenting  on  the 
mind  a reverential  and  permanent  expression,  and  giving  at  once  a 
corresponding  and  unequivocal  grandeur  to  the  pictures.  Much 
depends  upon  the  classification  of  the  objects,  which  should  wear  a 
magnificent  uniformity ; and  much  on  the  colouring,  which  should 
be  deep  and  impressive.  In  the  selection  of  a subject  for  working, 
the  student  should  ever  keep  in  view  the  powerful  object  which 
induced  him  to  make  the  sketch,  whether  it  be  mountains,  or  castle, 
group  of  trees,  a corn-field,  river  scene,  or  any  other  object.  The 
prominence  of  this  leading  feature  in  the  piece  should  be  duly 
supported  throughout ; the  character  of  the  picture  should  be 
derived  from  it ; every  other  object  introduced  should  be  subservient 
to  it ; and  the  attraction  of  the  one  should  be  the  attraction  of  the 
whole.  . . The  picture  should  be  complete  and  perfect  in  the 

mind  before  it  is  ever  traced  upon  the  canvas. 


Again,  in  “ The  Young  Artist’s  Companion,”  he 
insists  upon  keeping  effect  steadily  in  mind : — 

Abrupt  and  irregular  lines  are  productive  of  a grand  or  strong 
effect ; while  serenity  is  the  result  of  even  and  horizontal  lines. 
Morning  effect,  for  instance,  may  be  displayed  in  any  composition, 
the  form  and  character  of  which  are  pleasing  to  the  eye ; where  the 
pendent  forms  of  trees,  combined  with  other  objects,  communicate  to 
the  mind  a delightful  impression.  Owing  to  the  great  glare  of  light 
in  midday  effects,  hay -fields,  corn-fields,  or  any  busy  scenes  on  rivers, 
are  suitable.  As  regards  eve  or  twilight,  such  effects  being  cal- 


THE  NUMBER  OF  HIS  WORKS. 


251 


culated  to  convey  to  the  mind  the  impression  of  grandeur,  the 
composition  should  be  studied  to  produce  the  same ; and  the 
colouring  ought  to  be  perfectly  in  unison  with  the  peaceful  repose  or 
the  gloomy  majesty  which  contrasts  the  scene.  A flat  country  on 
the  marshy  banks  of  a winding  river  should  be  seen  beneath  a grey 
coloured  sky.  The  transient  effect  adapted  to  such  a landscape  is 
provided  by  the  fleeting  lights  of  the  sunbeams  struggling  between 
the  interstices  of  the  flowing  clouds.  The  old  pollard  willow  is 
strictly  characteristic  of  this  scene,  and  its  situation  in  the  landscape 
might  be  such  as  to  carry  the  eye  through  all  the  various  meanderings 
of  the  stream.  In  landscapes  which  are  low,  and,  on  the  whole,  less 
prolific  in  interest,  and  less  gratifying  to  the  eye,  an  additional 
feature  of  interest  should  be  thrown  into  the  sky,  to  aid,  by  the 
contrast  it  would  afford,  the  effect  of  the  whole ; and  where  the 
scene  itself  is  naturally  full  of  interest,  the  picture  will,  of  course, 
admit  of  a less  beautiful  and  imposing  sky. 


It  is  impossible  to  give,  with  any  reasonable  approach 
to  correctness,  an  estimate  of  the  number  of  drawings 
Cox  produced  in  the  course  of  his  fifty  years’  practice  of 
art.  The  fact  that  he  contributed  from  1813  down  to 
the  year  of  his  death  numerous  drawings — in  some 
years  nearly  forty — to  the  exhibitions  of  the  Water- 
Colour  Society,  will  enable  the  reader  to  form  some 
idea  of  the  total  number.  But  such  a computation 
would,  after  all,  be  delusive,  for  the  great  majority  of 
Cox’s  drawings  never  went  to  an  exhibition  at  all. 
They  were  bought  by  friends  and  visitors,  and  carried 
away  from  the  artist’s  painting  room ; and,  in  a great 
many  instances,  they  still  remain  in  the  possession 
of  the  original  owners.  It  has  already  been  mentioned 
that,  by  such  purchases  as  these,  a local  dealer  had  at 


252 


DAVID  COX. 


one  time  about  eight  hundred  drawings  and  sketches  in 
his  possession,  many  of  them,  of  course,  unfinished — 
mere  suggestions  of  colour  or  form,  hut  a large  proportion 
consisting  of  works  either  completely  finished  or  well 
advanced  towards  completion.  Collections  of  a hundred 
drawings  were  by  no  means  infrequent  in  Birmingham 
and  the  neighbourhood  at  the  period  of  Cox’s  death  ; 
and  there  still  remain  several  collections  of  importance, 
though  most  of  those  originally  formed  have  been 
disposed  of  on  account  of  the  death  of  their  owners,  or 
under  the  strong  temptation  of  the  high  prices  realised 
in  1872.  It  is  probably  within  the  truth  to  say  that 
the  number  of  Cox’s  drawings  is  so  great,  and  their 
dispersion  so  wide-spread,  that  every  collection  of  works 
of  art,  of  any  importance,  throughout  the  kingdom, 
contains  one  or  more  examples  of  them  ; excepting,  it 
must  be  said,  and  not  without  shame,  the  National 
Gallery,  in  which  no  specimen  of  Cox’s  work  is  to  be 
found,  though  there  are  a few,  but  comparatively  unim- 
portant, examples  in  the  collection  at  South  Kensington 
Museum.  The  principal  original  collectors,  those  who 
bought  Cox’s  drawings  during  the  artist’s  life,  and  whose 
collections  have  since  been  dispersed  by  sale,  were  Mr. 
Charles  Birch  (sales  in  1856  and  1857),  Mr.  Norman 
Wilkinson  (1861),  Mr.  William  Boberts  (1867),  Mr. 
Peter  Allen  (1869),  Mr.  Thomas  Brown  (1869),  Mr. 
Edwin  Bullock  (1870),  Mr.  J.  Tattersall  (1872).  To 
these  must  be  added  Mr.  Gillott,  the  sale  of  whose 
collection  took  place  in  1872;  but  who  bought  only 
two  or  three  works  by  Cox  while  the  painter  w^as  living, 


COLLECTIONS  OF  HIS  WORKS. 


253 


though  he  was  a large  purchaser  afterwards.  Details  of 
the  sales  just  mentioned  will  he  found  in  Mr.  Solly’s 
“ Life  of  Cox.”  Since  1872  there  have  been  few  sales 
of  importance,  excepting  Mr.  Quilter’s,  which,  it  is 
understood,  did  not  include  his  best  works  by  Cox ; the 
sale  by  the  artist’s  son,  the  present  Mr.  David  Cox  ; and 
the  sale  of  Mr.  F.  Timmins’  collection. 

The  dispersion  of  Cox’s  drawings,  above  referred  to, 
prevents  any  complete  enumeration  of  existing  collec- 
tions. Amongst  the  largest  are  those  of  Mr.  Ellis,  of 
Streatham  (Cox’s  executor),  Mr.  W.  Quilter,  and  Mr.  F. 
Nettlefold,  of  London,  Mr.  J.  D.  Perrins,  of  Malvern, 
and  Mr.  Holbrook  Cask  ell,  of  Liverpool.  Important 
collections  are  also  in  the  hands  of  Messrs.  Agnew,  Mr. 
Alfred  Betts  and  Mrs.  Hyla  Betts,  Birmingham,  Mrs. 
Bullock,  Hands  worth,  Birmingham,  Mr.  George  Graham, 
Birmingham,  Mr.  E.  Harvey,  Liverpool,  Mr.  J.  Hen- 
derson, London,  Mr.  B.  Leake,  Manchester,  Mr.  G.  W. 
Moss,  Liverpool,  Mr.  P.  H.  Bathbone,  Liverpool,  Mr. 
J.  E.  Taylor,  Manchester  and  London,  Mr.  G.  F.  Prange, 
Liverpool,  and  the  artist’s  son,  Mr.  David  Cox. 

Cox’s  oil  pictures  can  he  more  accurately  enu- 
merated, and  their  present  locality  stated.  There  is 
no  precise  record  of  the  number  ; but  those  who  are 
best  qualified  to  judge — his  intimate  friends,  Mr.  C. 
W.  Badclyffe,  and  the  late  Mr.  William  Hall — 
estimate  the  total  at  a little  over  one  hundred.  Of 
these,  fifty-seven  were  exhibited  at  Liverpool  in  1875. 
The  principal  possessors  of  Cox’s  oil  pictures  are  Mr. 
F.  Nettlefold,  of  London ; Mr.  J.  H.  Nettlefold,  of 


254 


DAVID  COX. 


King’s  Heath,  near  Birmingham ; and  Mrs.  Edward 
Nettlefold,  of  Edghaston,  Birmingham.  Between 
them,  these  members  of  the  Nettlefold  family  are  the 
owners  of  probably  three-fourths  of  the  oil  pictures. 
Amongst  these  are — “ The  Skylark,”  <£  Bolton  Park,” 
“ The  Hayfield,”  ££  Windsor  Castle,”  ££  The  Salmon 
Trap,”  ££  Dudley  Castle,”  ££  Haymaking  near  Conway,” 
“ Bolton  Abbey,”  belonging  to  Mr.  F.  Nettlefold ; 
£t  Rhyl  Sands,”  <£  Changing  Pasture,”  ££  Skirts  of  the 
Forest,”  ££  Waiting  for  the  Ferry,”  ££  Going  to  the 
Hayfield,”  and  a number  of  smaller  works,  belonging 
to  Mr.  J.  H.  Nettlefold ; and  the  ££  Welsh  Funeral,” 
6£  Cross  Roads,”  and  <£  Mill  near  Lichfield,”  and  others, 
belonging  to  Mrs.  E.  Nettlefold.  The  Nettlefold 
family  also  possess  a large  collection  of  Cox’s  finest 
drawings. 


Something  should  be  said  of  the  prices  realised  by 
Cox  for  his  works.  It  is  not  a pleasant  subject,  this 
talk,  now  far  too  frequent,  of  the  money  gains  of 
painters,  yet  with  regard  to  Cox  it  is  essential,  for 
without  reference  to  the  pay  he  received,  the  reader 
would  fail  thoroughly  to  understand  two  things  about 
him  : first,  the  long,  and  hard,  and  wearying  task  of 
making  a bare  living,  until  he  was  well  past  middle 
age ; and  second,  the  marvellous  advance  in  the  public 
estimate  of  his  art,  so  far  as  this  can  he  measured  by 
the  prices  given  since  his  death  for  his  works.  The 
modesty  of  the  man  himself,  his  self -distrust,  his  habit 


HIS  EARLY  PRICES:  1811—1818. 


255 


of  putting  art  foremost  and  profit  after,  may  also  be 
gathered  from  such  a review.  The  earliest  record  of 
Cox’s  prices  is  a mere  curiosity  : it  is  literally  a bill 
made  out  to  a theatre  manager  at  Wolverhampton,  for 
310  yards  of  scenery,  at  4s.  per  square  yard.  This 
was  done  when  he  was  twenty-five,  soon  after  his 
removal  from  Birmingham  to  London.  Of  the  sales 
of  drawings,  the  earliest  record  is  in  1811,  when 
Mr.  Everitt,  of  Birmingham,  bought  from  him 
twelve  sepia  drawings  at  8s.  each  ; and  seventeen 
drawings  in  colours,  for  eighteen  guineas  the  lot ! In 
the  next  year,  he  sells  drawings  at  prices  varying 
from  10s.  6d.  to  £1  11s.  6d.  In  1814,  the  year  after 
he  was  elected  a member  of  the  Water-Colour  Society, 
Mr.  Everitt  bought  from  him  ten  drawings  for  £12. 
In  the  same  year,  so  doubtful  was  his  chance  of  living 
by  practice  as  an  artist,  that  he  was  glad  to  take  an 
engagement  as  teacher  of  drawing  at  Miss  Crouch er’s 
school  at  Hereford,  at  a stipend  of  £100  a year,  for 
which  he  undertook  to  give  lessons  twice  a week. 
Two  years  later  he  enters  in  his  account-book  a charge 
of  £17  17s.  (including  entrance  fees)  for  “half  a 
year’s  instruction  to  five  young  ladies  ” at  Miss  Poole’s 
school  at  Hereford  ; and  he  sells  to  Miss  Poole  herself 
five  drawings  for  £2  12s.  6d.  His  prices  remained  at 
much  the  same  humble  standard  for  a considerable 
time.  In  1818,  for  example,  Mr.  Everitt  buys  six 
Indian-ink  drawings  at  7s.  each;  and  Messrs.  Fuller, 
of  London,  give  him  8s.  each  for  twenty -five  sepia 
drawings,  and  £1  5s.  each  for  drawings  in  colours. 


256 


DAVID  COX. 


' These  were  heart-breaking  terms  for  a man  who  was 
conscious  of  genius,  and  who  had  taken  a recognised 
position  amongst  water-colour  painters ; but,  bad  as 
they  were,  Cox  had  to  put  up  with  them  for  years 
longer.  In  1825 — he  was  then  forty-two  years  old — • 
he  sold  to  Mr.  William  Badclyffe  (the  engraver  of  his 
studies  for  the  “Warwickshire”  and  the  “North  and 
South  Wales”)  small  drawings  at  £1  5s.,  and  larger 
ones  at  £6  6s.  In  one  instance,  in  this  year,  he  rose  as 
high  as  £12  12s.  for  a large  drawing  of  “ Cader  Idris.” 
At  the  same  time,  however,  he  received  only  two  and 
three  guineas  from  Messrs.  Fuller  for  each  sheet  of 
etchings  for  his  art  publications — poor  pay  indeed,  when 
compared  with  the  amount  such  work  would  obtain 
from  the  publishers  now.  Nor  was  he  more  successful 
in  the  exhibitions.  In  the  year  just  mentioned  (1827), 
he  sent  seventeen  drawings  to  the  Water-Colour  So- 
ciety’s Exhibition.  They  were  varied  enough  in  subject 
to  please  all  tastes ; for  they  included  English  and 
Welsh  views,  coast  and  inland  scenery,  mountain  and 
moor,  figure  studies  as  well  as  landscape.  But  they  did 
not  sell ; and,  in  a fit  of  disgust  and  despair,  Cox 
withdrew  the  whole  of  them,  by  the  simple  but  effective 
method  of  going  round  and  himself  marking  them 
“ sold.”  This  was  a passing  feeling,  however.  Cox 
was  a brave  and  patient  man,  and  usually  bore  his  want 
of  success  without  repining,  or,  at  least,  without  show- 
ing that  he  felt  it.  That  he  did  feel  it,  keenly,  there  is 
no  doubt ; for  on  leaving  Hereford  for  London,  in  1827, 
he  wrote  to  his  old  friend  Mr.  Badclyffe,  asking  “ if  he 


PRICES  OF  HIS  WORKS:  1830—1847. 


257 


did  not  think  it  would  be  better  for  him  to  go  to 
Cheltenham,  and  make  small  drawings,  which  he  could 
sell  to  the  visitors  at  five  shillings  each  ? ” By  degrees 
his  position  and  prospects  mended,  though  slowly  and 
poorly  at  the  best. 

In  1830  there  is  an  entry  of  the  sale  of  five  drawings 
to  Mr.  Everitt  for  £12  ; next  year  four  drawings  sold  in 
the  Liverpool  exhibition  for  £23  10s. — just  under  £6 
each.  In  1837  his  highest  price  for  small  drawings — 
quarto  imperial  size — was  £6  6s.  Even  as  lately  as 
1845,  after  his  removal  to  Birmingham,  and  when  he  was 
over  sixty  years  of  age,  he  had  scarcely  reached  the  point, 
in  regard  to  prices,  at  which  young  artists  of  promise 
now  begin,  for  in  that  year  he  made  a large  drawing  of 
Carnarvon  Bay  for  his  friend  Mr.  Birch,  for  £19  19s.,  a 
smaller  drawing  of  a lane  scene  for  £8  8s.,  and  a large 
drawing — probably  imperial  size — for  £25 . In  1846  one 
of  his  most  famous  oil  pictures,  the  “ Peace  and  War  '' — 
18  in.  by  24  in. — was  painted.  Cox's  estimate  of  its  value 
was  £20,  for  which  he  sold  it  to  Mr.  Thomas  Darby. 
He  re-sold  it  for  £25.  Then,  after  the  painter's  death, 
Mr.  Gillott  bought  it,  together  with  another  picture, 
for  £650.  At  the  sale  of  Mr.  Gillott’s  collection,  in 
1872 — the  year  in  which  the  competition  for  Cox's 
works  was  at  its  height — the  “ Peace  and  War  " brought 
£3,601,  the  purchaser  being  Mr.  Montague  Gillott,  who 
had  a hard  struggle  to  obtain  it.  In  1847,  in  one  of  his 
letters,  Cox  mentions  with  delight  that  he  is  to  have  70 
guineas  for  an  oil  jhcture — his  ordinary  price  for  a 
medium-sized  work  in  oil  was  then  £40.  One  of  his 
n 


258 


BAY  IB  COX . 


studies  of  a “ Hayfield,”  in  oil,  painted  in  that  year  for  a 
Birmingham  dealer,  at  £40,  brought  a few  years  later 
£1,550  ; another  work  of  the  same  year,  the  “Old  Mill 
at  Bettws,”  also  sold  by  the  painter  for  £40,  brought 
£1,575  after  his  death . 

In  1846,  one  of  his  largest  works  in  oil,  “The  Yale 
of  Clwyd  (56  inches  by  39  inches),  was  priced  by  him 
at  £95.  This  picture  was  exchanged  with  Mr.  Nixon,  a 
Birmingham  dealer  and  frame  maker,  for  an  unfinished 
work  by  Muller.  Mr.  Nixon  sold  it  for  £70,  such  was 
then  the  “ trade  ” estimate  of  Cox’s  money  value.  In 
1868  it  was  re-sold  for  £480,  and  soon  afterwards  Mr. 
W.  Sharp  of  Endwood  Court,  Hands  worth,  Birmingham, 
gave  £580  for  it.  In  his  possession  it  remained  until 
1872,  when  Mr.  M‘Lean,  of  the  Haymarket,  bought  it 
for  £2,000.  Of  this  picture  a fine  etching,  by  M. 
Brunet  Debaines,  was  issued  in  1879.  Perhaps  the 
most  notable  illustration  of  the  difference  between  Cox’s 
prices  and  the  sums  his  works  have  since  realised,  is 
afforded  by  his  oil  picture  of  “ The  Skylark,”  usually 
and  justly  regarded  as  one  of  his  very  finest  produc- 
tions ; perhaps,  indeed,  his  very  best.  This  work  was 
painted  in  1849,  and  was  exhibited  at  Birmingham,  in  the 
rooms  of  the  Society  of  Artists,  where  it  was  bought 
by  Mr.  E.  A.  Butler,  a local  dealer  and  collector,  and 
a good  friend  and  admirer  of  Cox,  for  £40.  Mr.  Butler 
sold  it  some  time  afterwards,  but  the  purchaser  repented 
of  the  bargain,  and  the  picture  was  taken  back.  In 
1859,  the  year  of  the  painter’s  death,  it  was  bought  by 
Mr.  S.  Mayou,  a Birmingham  coTector,  for  £50;  and 


HIS  HIGHEST  PRICE:  1864. 


259 


Mr.  Mayou  kept  it  until  the  memorable  year  1872, 
when  he  sold  it  for  £2,300  to  Mr.  Frederick  Nettlefold, 
of  London,  in  whose  possession,  as  the  gem  of  his 
collection,  it  still  remains.  It  is  needless,  however — 
as  needless  as  it  is  distasteful — 'to  multiply  examples  of 
the  prices  realised  by  the  artist  himself,  as  compared 
with  those  since  obtained  in  “ the  picture  market.” 
One  more  illustration  will  be  enough : it  is  that  of 
“ The  Sea-shore  at  Rhyl.”  This  picture,  painted  in 
1855,  brought  the  artist  the  highest  price  he  ever 
received  for  any  work — namely,  £100,  for  which  it  was 
sold  in  the  Liverpool  exhibition,  in  1864.  Five  years 
after  the  painter’s  death  it  was  sold  for  £150;  prices 
had  not  then  gone  up.  Ultimately — of  course,  in  1872 
— it  realised  the  sum  of  £2,300.  How  greatly  Cox 
would  have  been  amazed  at  this  increased  money-value 
of  his  works  may  be  inferred  from  a letter  written  by 
him  in  1849  : — 

I went  [he  says]  to  sale  of  pictures  on  Tuesday  [the  note  is  dated 
March  15th]  at  Mr.  Butler’s,  at  Handsworth,  his  country-house  ; 
they  are  all  modern,  and  nearly  all  by  Birmingham  artists.  There 
were  live  of  mine ; they  fetched  more  than  the  price  they  cost  him, 
even  with  the  frames. 

As  late  as  1853  he  writes  : — 

Several  of  my  small  pictures,  nine  inches  by  fourteen  inches* 
which  I have  sold  for  £ 5 , have  been  sold  for  <£15,  and  others  at  the 
same  proportion ; other  pictures  which  I received  £40  each  for  sold 
for  £7 5.  I have  given  notice  to  one  or  two  friends  that  I would  not 
take  any  more  commissions  at  the  price  I have  hitherto  had. 

In  the  same  year  he  writes  with  sadness,  and  surely 
r 2 


260 


DAVID  COX. 


with  a touch  of  justifiable  warmth : — “I  am  now  confined 
to  my  bed-room — a most  violent  attack  of  bronchitis, 
which  nearly  suffocates  me  at  times.  If  I should  he 
spared  I will  get  rid  of  some  commissions  and  make 
no  more  promises,  but  merely  go  out  when  I please,  and 
paint  what  I please.  It  is  no  use  my  working  for  some ; 
they  are  rather  too  selfish,  and  hurry  me  to  paint  faster 
than  it  is  possible.  Perhaps  they  are  aware  that  if  I 
should  die  they  will  not  be  able  to  procure  any  more. 
Some  who  have  not  set  that  value  upon  my  small  bits, 
have  parted  with  them  at  an  advance  of  two  hundred 
per  cent.,  and  in  some  cases  more.5’  In  another  letter 
written  in  the  same  year,  he  again  returns  to  the  subject. 
Referring  to  the  Water-Colour  Society’s  Exhibition  he 
says  : 

I hope  to  be  in  London  on  the  3rd  of  May,  and  then  I will  take 
out  of  the  price  book  the  sums  I have  asked  for  my  four  large 
drawings,  and  if  there  are  those  of  the  public  who  appreciate  mind 
before  mechanism,  they  will  write  to  me  to  learn  how  I estimate 
them.  I may  be  wrong , but  the  world  has  yet  to  be  taught.  Perhaps 
I may  be  made  vain  by  some  here  [this  letter  was  written  from 
Harborne]  who  think  my  “ Summit  of  a Mountain  ” worth — I am 
almost  afraid  to  say — £100  ; and  if  I could  paint  it  in  oil,  I shall 
some  day  [D.Y.]  get  that  sum. 

He  did  once  reach  this  wonderful  ideal,  as  we 
have  already  seen  ; but  only  once.  That  he  should 
think  it  so  marvellous  is  the  clearest  illustration  of 
his  modest  estimate  of  his  own  worth,  and,  perhaps, 
of  his  carelessness  of  mere  money  getting ; but  he 
always  felt  great  hesitation  as  to  raising  his  prices. 
PI  is  ordinary  and  latest  charge  for  a small  drawing — 


HIS  FEELING  ABOUT  MONEY . 


261 


quarto  imperial  size — was  £10;  and  for  a drawing  of 
imperial  size — his  exhibition  size — £40.  These  were 

his  prices  for  finished  works.  Studies  and  sketches 
were  scattered  broadcast  at  much  lower  rates.  Some- 
times— not  improbably  by  those  who  failed  to  reap  an 
advantage  by  him — Cox  was  reproached  with  a want  of 
liberality  in  money  matters.  He  was  near  and  close, 
they  said.  The  imputation  cannot  be  justified.  He 
was  careful,  doubtless ; those  who  have  read  this  record 
of  his  gains  will  see  that  he  had  need  to  be  careful.  He 
had  struggled  so  hard,  and  his  earnings  had  been  so 
limited,  and  his  savings  so  modest,  that  he  might  well 
keep  firm  hold  upon  what  he  could  save.  But,  as  all 
who  had  personal  knowledge  of  him  are  well  aware,  he 
was  generous  in  his  kindly  charities,  and  was  liberal  in 
professional  dealings.  When  those  who  wanted  advice 
in  matters  of  art  came  to  him  and  asked  for  it,  he  gave 
it  freely,  though  his  time  was  precious.  He  gave  help, 
also,  in  a substantial  way;  and  he  gave  away  drawings, 
frequently  as  free  gifts,  and  often  at  prices  which  made 
them  practical  gifts. 

To  the  last  he  asked  the  most  moderate  prices  for  his 
finest  works — think  of  £100  being  the  highest  sum  he 
ever  asked  or  had  ! — he  never  pressed  any  man  to  buy 
from  him — he  had  in  his  character  no  trace  of  the 
money-hunter.  No  speculation  tempted  him  ; no  expe- 
dient to  make  his  money  breed  profit  had  any  fascination 
for  him ; his  one  and  only  desire  was  to  provide  enougli 
for  his  old  age,  if  the  power  of  work  should  fail,  and  to 
leave  a modest  bequest  to  those  who  might  be  dependent 


262 


DAVID  COX. 


upon  him.  So  much  as  he  could  get  went  quietly  into 
the  Three  Per  Cents,  and  stopped  there ; Cox  being 
content,  so  that  the  money  was  safe,  and  that  no 
thought  of  it  drew  away  his  thoughts  from  Art.  When 
he  died,  in  his  seventy-seventh  year,  after  a life  of 
unceasing  industry — for  he  never  slackened  and  never 
idled,  working,  indeed,  as  hard  as  Turner  himself — he 
left  about  £12,000,  the  result  of  being  before  the.  public 
for  fifty  years  as  an  exhibiting  artist.  A painter  of  the 
first  rank  would  now  make  nearly,  if  not  quite  as  much, 
in  a single  year.  Two  or  three  of  his  own  oil  pictures 
and  half  a dozen  of  his  best  drawings,  now  that  he  is 
dead,  would  sell  for  the  whole  amount  he  saved  in  half 
a century  of  unremitting  labour. 

But  in  his  day  painters  had  none  of  the  great 
chances,  at  least  Cox  himself  had  none.  The  world,  as  he 
said,  had  indeed  to  be  taught — it  had  to  learn  the 
intrinsic  worth  of  creations  of  genius,  the  value  of 
which  cannot  be  expressed  in  money.  In  Cox’s  case  the 
lesson  has  been  learnt,  rapidly  and  amply.  Those  who 
care  to  trace  the  progress  of  it  may  do  so  in  the 
catalogues  of  sales  held  since  the  painter’s  death. * One 
thing  should  be  said  for  David  Cox,  and  said  to  his 
honour.  Throughout  life  he  was  industrious,  self-respect- 
ing, and  thoroughly  independent.  His  living  was 
wrought  with  his  own  hand  and  brain  ; he  never  begged 
or  borrowed  ; he  evaded  no  obligation,  and  denied  no 

# Details  of  the  principal  sales,  too  lengthy  to  be  incorporated  here,  will 
be  found  in  the  “Memoir  of  David  Cox,”  by  Mr.  Neal  Solly,  in  which 
notes  on  Lis  principal  works  are  also  given. 


ENGRAVINGS  FROM  HIS  WORKS. 


263 


just  claim  ; no  man  was  the  poorer  for  him,  but  many 
were  the  richer  ; and  not  once  did  he  break  into  com- 
plaint that  to  him  art  was  not  the  bringer  of  wealth. 
To  his  honest  simple  nature  it  was  enough  to  earn  his 
daily  bread,  to  provide  modestly  for  those  dependent 
upon  him,  to  put  by  something  if  need  be  for  old  age, 
to  find  pleasure  in  the  affection  and  appreciation  of  a 
few  intimate  friends,  and  to  reap  his  great  reward  in  the 
secrets  which  Nature  revealed  to  him,  and  with  which, 
through  Art,  he  enriched  the  world. 


It  is  a curious  fact  that  the  works  of  David  Cox 
have  been  most  sparingly  reproduced  by  means  of 
engraving.  No  English  painter  of  eminence  has  been 
made  so  little  known  by  this  means.  Yet,  as  the  few 
examples  we  have  sufficiently  prove,  Cox’s  drawings  and 
oil  pictures  would  well  repay  the  engraver’s  labour. 
Beproductions  of  Cox,  especially  of  his  drawings  in 
sepia,  in  the  manner  of  Turner’s  “ Liber  Studiorum,” 
would  be  of  the  highest  interest  and  value.  At  one 
time  such  a work  was  contemplated.  Cox  himself,  who 
greatly  admired  Turner,  was  fired  with  a generous 
emulation  by  the  “ Liber  Studiorum,”  and  made  pre- 
parations for  publishing  a “ Cox  Studiorum.”  For  this 
purpose  he  selected  about  one  hundred  sepia  drawings ; 
but  the  design,  from  some  unexplained  cause,  was  laid 
aside,  and  was  never  resumed  by  him.  After  the 
painter’s  death,  another  proposal  of  this  kind  was  made 


264 


DAVID  COX. 


by  Mr.  Edward  Radclyffe,  who  began  to  execute  some 
plates  for  the  work,  and  who  could,  better  perhaps  than 
any  other  engraver,  have  given  the  world  a rendering  of 
Cox  adequate  to  the  master’s  merits,  and  worthy  of  his 
fame.  But  Mr.  Radclyffe’s  untimely  death  put  an  end 
to  this  labour  of  love  ; all  he  had  been  able  to  do  for  it 
were  three  plates  since  published  by  the  Liverpool  Art 
Club.  Now  that  etching  has  come  so  greatly  into 
vogue,  and  that  we  have  so  many  admirable  etchers  in 
this  country,  it  is  greatly  to  be  desired  that  some  of 
them  should  undertake  the  execution  of  a “ Cox  Stu- 
diorum.”  Etching  is  peculiarly  the  method  adapted 
to  the  rendering  of  his  works,  in  all  their  ease  and 
freedom ; their  suggestive  quality  could  thus  be  realised 
to  perfection  ; and  no  better  means  could  be  taken  to 
make  the  public  acquainted  with  the  infinite  variety, 
the  grace,  the  tenderness,  and  the  power  of  the  man  who, 
next  to  Turner,  has  done  most  to  record  and  to  interpret 
the  charms  of  English  landscape.  As  matters  stand, 
however,  Cox  is  scarcely  known  through  the  medium  of 
engraving.  The  subjoined  list,  it  is  believed,  includes 
all  that  has  been  done  for  him  in  the  way  of  repro- 
duction : — 


1829. — “Warwickshire  Illustrated.”  Published  by  Messrs.  Knott,  Birming- 
ham. Engraved  by  William  Radclyffe,  from  drawings  made  by 
Cox  and  others.  The  collection  of  original  drawings  is  now  the 
property  of  the  Birmingham  and  Midland  Institute. 

? 1835. — “ Wanderings  in  North  Wales.”  By  Thomas  Roscoe.  Fifty-one 
plates,  engraved  by  William  Radclyffe,  from  drawings  by  Cox, 
Creswick,  Cattermole,  and  others.  Published  by  Messrs.  Wright- 
son  and  Webb,  Birmingham. 

1837. — “ Wanderings  in  South  Wales  and  the  River  Wye.”  By  Thomas 


LIST  OF  ENGRAVED  WORKS. 


265 


Roscoe.  Forty-eight  plates,  engraved  by  William  Radclyffe  from 
drawings  by  Cox,  J.  D.  Harding,  Copley  Fielding,  Creswick,  and 
others.  Published  by  Messrs.  Wrightson  and  Webb,  Birming- 
ham. 

1862-3. — Twelve  line  engravings.  By  Edward  Radclyffe.  Issued  by  the 
Aid  Union  of  London. 

1866. — “ Hay  Time.”  Engraved  by  Edward  Radclyffe,  and  published  iu 
The  Art  Journal. 

1868. — “ Carreg  Cennen.”  Engraved  by  W.  Chapman,  and  published  in 
The  Art  Journal. 

1876.  — Cox  “ Liber  Studiorum.”  Three  engravings  by  Edward  Radclyffe. 

1.  Dudley  Castle.  2.  The  Outskirts  of  a Forest.  3.  Bala  Lake. 
Published  by  Messrs.  Colnaghi,  for  the  Liverpool  Art  Club.  Im- 
pression restricted  to  150  copies. 

1877.  — Hardwick  Hall.  Etched  by  M.  Brunet  Debaines.  Published  in 

The  Portfolio. 

1879. — “The  Yale  of  Clwyd.”  Etched  by  M.  Brunet  Debaines.  Published 
by  Mr.  M‘Lean,  Haymarket.  Impression  restricted  to  125  copies, 
1875. — “ Memoirs”  of  David  Cox.  By  H.  Heal  Solly.  Illustrated  with 
sixteen  photographs  from  Cox’s  drawings.  Published  by  Messrs, 
Chapman  and  Hall. 

Besides  these,  there  is  an  engraving  of  one  of  the 
drawings  of  “ Lancaster  Sands,”  by  Bobert  Brandard ; 
and  one  of  “ Fishing  Boats,”  by  A.  Willmore ; and,  so 
far  as  the  writer  has  been  able  to  ascertain,  these  com- 
plete the  list,  with  the  exception  of  a few  wood  en- 
gravings. 

Cox’s  own  publications  are  all  of  comparatively  early 
date,  and  are  now  very  rarely  to  he  met  with.  If  the 
plates  are  still  in  existence  they  well  deserve  re-issne,  for 
they  show  that  Cox  possessed  remarkable  skill  as  an 
engraver.  The  following,  it  is  believed,  is  a complete 
list  of  them  : — 

1814. — “Treatise  on  Landscape  Painting,  and  Effect  in  Water-Colours.” 
Published  by  S.  and  J.  Fuller,  Rathbone  Place,  London.  This 
contains  twenty-five  pages  of  etchings,  and  thirty-two  pages  of 


266 


DAVID  COX. 


aquatint  drawings.  Several  editions  of  the  work  were  issued ; 
the  latest  in  1840. 

1820. — Six  Yiews  in  the  City  of  Bath,  engraved  from  Cox’s  drawings  • 
Same  publishers. 

1825. — “ The  Young  Artist’s  Companion  : or  Drawing-book  of  Studies  and 
Landscape  Embellishment.”  Published  by  Messrs.  Puller.  This 
contains  forty  pages  of  etchings,  and  twenty-four  of  aquatint 
drawings. 

1828. — “ A Series  of  Progressive  Lessons,  intended  to  Elucidate  the  Art 
of  Landscape  Painting  in  Water-Colours.”  Published  by  T.  Clay, 
London.  This  contains  twelve  plates. 

1830. — “ Yiew  of  the  County  Hall,  Hereford.”  Published  at  Hereford. 
Drawn  on  stone  by  Cox ; the  only  lithograph  he  is  known  to  have 
made. 


Mr.  Solly  (“  Life  of  Cox,”  p.  60)  mentions  that  in 
1845  Cox  made  several  lithotints  from  some  of  his  works, 
with  the  intention  of  issuing  a collection  of  them,  hut 
they  were  never  published. 

This  is  the  fitting  place  in  which  to  mention  the 
special  exhibitions  held  from  time  to  time  of  Cox’s  works. 
Attention  was  called  to  them  in  a marked  degree  by 
the  collection  shown  in  1857,  at  the  Manchester  Art 
Treasures  Exhibition.  In  the  following  year — 1858 — 
a collection  was  made  and  shown  at  the  rooms  of  the 
Hampstead  Conversazione.  This  was  promoted  by  the 
late  Mr.  Tom  Taylor  ; and  Mr.  John  Hollingsworth,  of 
Birmingham,  who  at  one  time  possessed  about  800 
drawings  and  sketches  by  Cox,  lent  many  of  his  choicest 
examples  for  it.  In  1859,  the  year  of  the  painter’s 
death,  169  of  Cox’s  works  were  shown  at  the  German 
Gallery,  New  Bond  Street.  There  was  another  exhibi- 
tion at  Manchester  in  1870  ; and  finally,  in  1875,  the 
Liverpool  Art  Club  made  their  great  collection,  which 


THE  SIGN-BOARD  AT  THE  “ ROYAL  OAK.” 


267 


is  sufficiently  described  in  Mr.  Hall’s  Memoir.  In  Bir- 
mingham, strange  to  say — the  painter’s  birth-place,  his 
residence  for  the  best  part  of  his  life,  and  the  constant 
home  of  his  affections — no  exhibition  of  his  works  has 
ever  been  attempted. 

The  sign-board  painted  by  Cox  for  the  “ Royal 
Oak  ” at  Bettws,  the  painting  and  character  of  which 
are  recorded  in  Mr.  Hall’s  Memoir — has  lately  been  the 
subject  of  litigation.  The  sign  was  years  ago  taken 
down  from  outside  the  house,  and  was  hung  in  the  hall. 
In  the  course  of  last  year  Mr.  Thomas,  the  then  tenant 
of  the  hotel,  filed  a petition  in  bankruptcy,  and  the 
trustee  of  his  estate  claimed  the  sign-board  as  a valu- 
able asset.  The  claim  was  disputed  by  Lady  Willoughby 
d’Eresby,  the  owner  of  the  Gfwydyr  estates,  of  which 
the  hotel  at  Bettws  forms  part,  and  the  sign-board  was 
on  her  behalf  demanded  as  the  property  of  the  ground 
landlord.  The  judge  of  the  Carnarvonshire  County 
Court  decided  the  case  in  favour  of  Lady  Willoughby’s 
claim.  An  appeal  was  taken  to  Sir  J.  Bacon,  the  Chief 
Judge  in  Bankruptcy,  who,  on  the  13th  December, 
1880,  gave  judgment  in  favour  of  the  creditors,  and 
reversed  the  decision  of  the  county  court  judge.  On 
further  appeal,  in  February,  1881,  Sir  J.  Bacon’s  de- 
cision was  reversed,  and  it  was  thus  finally  decided  that 
the  sign-board,  painted  by  the  artist  for  the  “ Royal 
Oak,”  belongs  to  the  owner  of  the  hotel ; and  conse- 
quently remains  there. 

A table  of  the  leading  dates  in  the  artist’s  life  very 
fitly  closes  these  desultory  notes : — 


268 


DAVID  COX . 


LEADING  DATES  IN  COX’S  LIFE. 

1783. — Born,  Heath  Mill  Lane,  Deritend,  Birmingham,  April  29th. 

1798. — Apprenticed  to  a Miniature  Painter. 

1800. — Employed  at  the  Birmingham  Theatre. 

1804.  — First  Residence  in  London,  originally  in  Lambeth,  afterwards  at 

Dulwich. 

1805.  — First  Journey  into  North  Wales. 

1813.  — Elected  member  of  Society  of  Painters  in  Water-Colours. 

1814.  — Removal  to  Hereford. 

1827. — Second  Residence  in  London,  at  9,  Foxley  Road,  Kennington. 
1841. — Removal  to  Harborne,  near  Birmingham. 

1856. — Visit  to  Edinburgh,  to  sit  to  Sir  J.  Watson  Gordon. 

1859.— Death. 


1826. — Visit  to  Holland  and  Belgium. 

1829. — First  visit  to  France. 

1832. — Second  visit  to  France. 

1844. — First  Sketching  visit  to  Bettws-y-coed. 
1856. — Last  visit  to  Bettws. 


THE  END. 


Cassell,  Pettee,  Galpin  & Co.,  Belle  Salvage  Woeks,  London,  E.C. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  VOLUMES 


Published  by  Cassell,  Fetter,  Galpin  & Co. 


David  Cox,  A Biography  of. 

With  remarks  on  his  Works  and  Genius.  By  the  late  William  Hall. 
Edited,  with  Additions,  by  John  Thackray  Bunce.  With  Autotype  Por- 
trait. Cloth,  price  ios.  6d. 

A Police  Code,  and  Manual  of  the  Criminal  Law. 

By  C.  E.  Howard  Vincent,  Director  of  Criminal  Investigations.  Cloth, 
price  6s. 

England  : its  People,  Polity,  and  Pursuits. 

By  T.  H.  S.  Escott.  Two  Vols. , demy  8vo,  cloth  24s.  Cheap  Edition , 
in  One  Vol.,  price  7s.  6d. 

A History  of  Modern  Europe. 

By  C.  A.  Fyffe,  M.A. , Fellow  of  University  College,  Oxford.  Vol.  I., 
with  Two  Maps.  Demy  8vo,  12s. 

Young  Ireland:  A Fragment  of  Irish  History. 

By  the  Hon.  Sir  Charles  Gavan  Duffy,  K.C.M.G.  Demy  8vo,  cloth,  21s. 

Wood  Magic:  A Fable. 

By  Richard  Jefferies,  Author  of  “ The  Gamekeeper  at  Home,”  See.  & c. 
Two  Vols.  2 is. 

English  and  Irish  Land  Questions. 

Collected  Essays  by  the  Rt.  Hon.  G.  Shaw-Lefevre,  M.P.,  First  Commis- 
sioner of  Works  and  Public  Buildings.  Price  6s. 

Land  Tenure  in  Various  Countries,  Systems  of. 

A Series  of  Essays,  published  under  the  sanction  of  the  Cobden  Club. 
Edited  by  J.  W.  Probyn.  New  Edition,  cloth,  3s.  6d. 

The  Landed  Interest  and  the  Supply  of  Food. 

By  James  Cairo,  C.B.,  F.R.S.  New  and  Enlarged  Edition.  Cloth,  5S> 

English  Land  and  English  Landlords. 

By  the  Hon.  George  C.  Brodrick.  Price  12s.  6d.  Published  for  the 
Cobden  Club. 

The  Life  of  the  Rt.  Hon.  W.  E.  Gladstone. 

By  George  Barnett  .Smith.  With  Two  Steel  Portraits.  Cheap  Edition , 
in  One  Vol.,  cloth,  5s. 

Russia. 

By  D.  Mackenzie  Wallace,  M.A.  Cheap  Edition , in  one  Vol.,  with 
Two  Maps,  ios.  6d.  Library  Edition , Two  Vols.,  24s. 

A Ride  to  Khiva. 

By  Captain  Burnaby.  Cheap  Edition , 3s.  6d. 


Cassell , Fetter,  Galpin  <£  Co.  : Ludgatc  Hill,  London  ; Paris  ; and  Ne~v  York. 

1 6 r.— 981. 


Selections  from  Cassell , Petter , Galpin  cG  Co.  ?s  Volumes  ( Continued ). 


The  British  Army. 

From  the  Restoration  to  the  Revolution.  By  Sir  Sibbald  Scott,  Bart. 
Demy  8vo,  cloth,  21s. 

The  Land  of  the  Boer.  Adventures  in  Natal,  Zululand, 
Basutoland,  Orange  Free  State,  and  the  Transvaal.  By  Parker 

Gillmore.  Cheap  Edition,  3s.  6d. 


Remedies  for  War,  Political  and  Legal. 

By  Professor  Sheldon  Amos,  M.A.,  Barrister-at-Law.  Price  6s. 


England,  Cassell’s  History  of. 

With  about  2,000  Illustrations.  Nine  Vols.,  cloth,  9s.  each.  Or  in  library 
binding,  £4  IOS-  complete. 


United  States,  Cassell’s  History  of  the. 

With  600  Illustrations  and  Maps.  1,950  pages,  extra  crown  4to.  Complete 
in  Three  Vols.,  cloth,  £1  7s.;  or  in  library  binding,  £1  10s. 

India,  Cassell’s  History  of. 

With  about  400  Maps,  Plans,  and  Illustrations.  Extra  crown  4to,  Two 
Vols.,  cloth,  18s.;  or  in  library  binding,  £1. 

The  War  between  France  and  Germany,  Cassell’s 

History  of.  With  500  Engravings.  Two  Vols.  Extra  crown  4to,  cloth, 
1 8s.;  or  bound  in  calf,  30s. 

The  Russo-Turkish  War,  Cassell’s  History  of. 

Complete  in  Two  Vols.  With  about  500  Illustrations.  9s.  each. 


British  Battles  on  Land  and  Sea. 

By  James  Grant.  With  about  600  Illustrations.  Three  Vols.  cloth, 
£\  7s.;  or  in  library  binding,  £1  10s. 

Old  and  New  London.  a Narrative  of  its  History,  its 
People,  and  its  Places.  With  1,200  Illustrations.  Complete  in  Six 
Vols.,  9s.  each;  or  in  library  binding,  £3. 

Heroes  of  Britain  in  Peace  and  War. 

By  E.  Hodder.  With  300  Illustrations.  Two  Vols.,  7s.  6d.  each. 


Decisive  Events  in  History. 

Sixth  Thousand.  With  Original  Illustrations.  Cloth  gilt,  5s. 

Through  the  Light  Continent;  or,  The  United  States 

in  1877-8.  By  William  Saunders,  ios.  6d. 


Cassell , Tetter,  Galpin  <G  Co.:  Ludgate  Hill , London  ; Paris ; and  New  York. 


Selections  from  Cassell , Fetter,  Galpin  & Co.'s  Volumes  ( Continued ). 


The  Life  of  Christ. 

By  the  Rev.  F.  W.  Farrar,  D.D.,  F.R.S.,  Canon  of  Westminster,  and 
Chaplain  in  Ordinary  to  the  Queen. 

Popular  Edition,  in  One  Vol. , cloth,  6s.;  cloth  gilt,  gilt  edges,  7s.  6d. 
Library  Edition.  28th  Edition,  Two  Vols. , cloth,  24s. ; morocco,  £2  2s. 
Illustrated  Edition.  With  about  300  Illustrations.  Extra  crown  4to, 
cloth,  gilt  edges,  21s.;  calf  or  morocco,  £2  2s. 


The  Life  and  Work  of  St.  Paul. 

By  the  Rev.  F.  W.  Farrar,  D.D.,  F.R.S.,  Canon  of  Westminster,  and 
Chaplain  in  Ordinary  to  the  Queen.  1 *]th  Thousand.  Two  Vols.,  demy 
8vo,  cloth,  24s.;  morocco,  £2  2s. 

THE  NEW  BIBLE  COMMENTARY. 

New  Testament  Commentary  for  English  Readers. 

Edited  by  the  Right  Rev.  C.  J.  Ellicott,  D.D.,  Lord  Bishop  of  Gloucester 
and  Bristol.  Three  Vols.,  cloth,  £3  3s.;  or  in  half-morocco,  £4  14s.  6d. 

Vol.  I.  contains  THE  FOUR  GOSPELS.  £1  is. 

Vol.  II.  contains  THE  ACTS  to  GALATIANS.  £ 1 is. 

Vol.  III.  contains  the  EPHESIANS  to  the  REVELATION.  £ 1 is. 

The  Half-Guinea  Illustrated  Bible. 

Containing  900  Original  Illustrations.  Crown  4to,  cloth,  10s.  6d.  Also  in 
Leather  Bindings  in  great  variety. 

The  Bible  Educator. 

Edited  by  the  Rev.  E.  H.  Pi.umptre,  D.D.  Illustrated.  Four  Vols.,  6s. 
each;  or  Two  Vols.,  21s.;  or  in  library  binding,  £1  4s. 

The  Family  Prayer-Book. 

Edited  by  the  Rev.  Canon  Garbett,  M.A.,  and  the  Rev.  Samuel  Martin. 
Extra  crown  4to,  cloth,  5s. 

Sunday  Musings. 

A Selection  of  Readings — Biblical,  Devotional,  and  Descriptive — from  the 
writings  of  the  best  authors.  Illustrated.  832  pp. , demy  4to,  cloth,  21s. 


The  Church  at  Home. 

A Series  of  Short  Sermons,  with  Collect  and  Scripture  for  Sundays,  Saints’ 
Days,  and  Special  Occasions.  By  the  Right  Rev.  Rowley  Hill,  D.D. , 
Bishop  of  Sodor  and  Man.  Roan  gilt,  5s. 

New  Testament,  Companion  to  the  Revised  Version 

of  the  English.  By  Alexander  Roberts,  D.D.  Price  2s.  6d. 

Proverbial  Philosophy,  Illustrated  Edition  of. 

By  Martin  F.  Tupper,  M.A.,  D.C.L.,  F.R.S.  Illustrated  throughout. 
Extra  crown  4to,  gilt  edges,  10s.  6d. 

The  History  of  Protestantism. 

By  the  Rev.  J.  A.  Wylie,  LL.D.  With  600  Original  Illustrations.  Three 
Vols.,  4to,  cloth,  £1  7s.;  or  in  library  binding,  I ios. 


Cassell , Fetter , Galpin  § Co.;  Lud^ate  Hill , London  ; Paris ; and  New  York. 


3 


Selections  from  Cassell,  Petter,  Galpin  Co.’s  Volumes  ( Continued ). 


Evangeline. 

o 

Edition  de  Luxe.  With  23  magnificent  Original  Illustrations  by  Frank 
Dicksee,  A.R.A.,  15  of  which  are  beautifully  reproduced  in  Photogravure 
by  Messrs.  Goupil  of  Paris.  The  work  is  printed  on  Whatman’s  hand-made 
paper,  size  16^  in.  by  12^  in.,  the  Wood  Engravings  being  on  real  China 
paper.  Further  particulars,  with  price , &c. , may  be  obtained  of  any 

Bookseller , or  on  application  to  the  Publishers. 


The  Magazine  of  Art. 

Volume  IV.  [Being  the  First  Volume  of  the  En7arged  Series.)  With  about 
400  Illustrations  by  the  first  Artists  of  the  day.  A beautifully-executed 
Etching,  “The  Trio,”  from  a Painting  by  Erskine  Nicol,  A.R.A.,  etched 
by  Lalauze,  forms  the  Frontispiece.  Cloth  gilt,  gilt  edges,  16s. 

Vols.  /.,  II.,  and  III.  can  still  be  obtained,  price  ioj-.  6 d.  each. 

Picturesque  Europe. 

Complete  in  Five  Vols.  Each  containing  Thirteen  Exquisite  Steel  Plates 
from  Original  Drawings,  and  nearly  200  Original  Illustrations.  With  De- 
scriptive Letterpress.  Royal  4to,  cloth,  gilt  edges,  £2  2s. ; morocco,  ^5  5s.  each. 

Illustrated  British  Ballads. 

With  several  Hundred  Original  Illustrations  by  some  of  the  first  Artists  of  the 
day.  Complete  in  Two  Vols.  Cloth,  gilt  edges,  21s. 


Pictures  of  Bird  Life  in  Pen  and  Pencil. 

With  Illustrations  by  Giacomelli.  Imperial  4to,  21s. 


Landscape  Painting  in  Oils,  A Course  of  Lessons  in. 

By  A.  F.  Grace,  Turner  Medallist,  Royal  Academy.  With  Nine  Reproduc- 
tions in  Colour,  after  Turner,  Constable,  De  Wint,  F.  Walker,  Mason, 
Muller,  and  A.  F.  Grace  ; and  numerous  examples  engraved  on  Wood 
from  well-known  Pictures.  Extra  demy  folio,  cloth,  gilt  edges,  42s. 


Morocco  : Its  People  and  Places. 

By  Edmondo  de  Amicis.  Translated  by  C.  Rollin-Tilton.  With  about 
200  Illustrations.  Extra  crown  4to,  cloth,  21s. 


Longfellow’s  Poetical  Works. 

Illustrated  throughout  with  Original  Engravings  by  some  of  the  best  English, 
American,  and  Continental  Artists.  Royal  4to,  cloth  gilt,  £3  3s. 


The  Great  Painters  of  Christendom,  from  Cimabue  to 

WlLKIE.  By  John  Forbes-Robertson.  Illustrated  throughout.  21s. 


The  Dore  Fine  Art  Volumes,  comprise— 


£ s.  d. 

The  Dor6  Scripture  Gallery  5 10  o 
The  Dore  Gallery  . .550 

The  Dore  Bible  . . .440 

Milton’s  Paradise  Lost  . 2 10  o 
Dante’s  Inferno  . . . 2 10  o 


Purgatorio  and  Paradiso 
La  Fontaine’s  Fables 
Don  Quixote 
Munchausen 
Fairy  Tales  Told  Again 


£ s • d. 

. 2 10  o 
. 1 10  o 
. o 15  o 
.050 
• o 50 


Cassell,  Petter , Gal  pin  § Co.:  Ludgate  Hill,  1 ondon ; Paris;  and  New  York. 


4 


Selections  from  Cassell,  Petter,  Galpin  Co.'s  Volumes  ( Continued ). 

The  Book  of  the  Horse. 

By  S.  Sidney.  With  Twenty-five  Coloured  Plates,  and  ioo  Wood  Engrav- 
ings. New  and  Revised  Edition.  Demy  4to,  cloth,  31s.  6d. ; half-morocco, 
£ 2 2S. 

The  Illustrated  Book  of  Poultry. 

By  L.  Wright.  With  50  Coloured  Plates,  and  numerous  Wood  Engravings. 
Demy  4to,  cloth,  31s.  6d. ; half- morocco,  £2  2s. 

The  Illustrated  Book  of  Pigeons. 

By  R.  Fulton.  Edited  by  L.  Wright.  With  Fifty  Coloured  Plates  and 
numerous  Engravings.  . Demy  4to,  cloth,  31s.  6d.;  half-morocco, £2  2s. 

Canaries  and  Cage-Birds,  The  Illustrated  Book  of. 

With  Fifty-six  Coloured  Plates  and  numerous  Illustrations.  Demy4to,  cloth, 
35s. ; half-morocco,  £2  5s. 

Dairy  Farming.  ' 

By  Prof.  Sheldon,  assisted  by  eminent  Authorities.  With  Twenty-five  Fac- 
simile Coloured  Plates,  and  numerous  Wood  Engravings.  Cloth,  31s.  6d. ; 
half-morocco,  £2  2s. 

Illustrated  Book  of  the  Dog. 

By  Vero  Shaw,  B.A.  Cantab.  With  Twenty-eight  Fac-simile  Coloured 
Plates,  drawn  from  Life  expressly  for  the  Work,  and  numerous  Wood  En- 
gravings. Demy  4to,  cloth  bevelled,  35s. ; half-morocco,  45s. 


European  Ferns:  their  Form,  Habit,  and  Culture. 

By  James  Britten,  F.L.S.  With  30  Fac-simile  Coloured  Plates,  Painted 
from  Nature  by  D.  Blair,  F.L.S.  Demy  4to,  cloth  gilt,  gilt  edges,  21s. 

Familiar  Garden  Flowers. 

First  Series.  By  Shirley  Hibberd.  With  Forty  Full-page  Coloured 
Plates  by  F.  E.  Hulme,  F.L.S.  12s.  6d. 

Familiar  Wild  Flowers. 

First  and  Second  Series.  By  F.  E.  Hulme,  F.L.S.,  F.S.A.  With 
Forty  Coloured  Plates  and  Descriptive  Text.  12s.  6d.  each. 


The  Wild  White  Cattle  of  Great  Britain. 

An  Account  of  their  Origin,  History,  and  Present  State.  By  the  late  Rev. 
John  Storer,  M.A.  Illustrated.  Cheap  Edition , 7s.  6d. 

Cassell’s  New  Natural  History. 

Edited  by  Prof.  Duncan,  M.B.,  F.R.S.,  assisted  by  Eminent  Writers.  Illus- 
trated throughout.  Vols.  I.,  II.,  III.,  IV.,  and  V.,  9s.  each. 

The  World  of  the  Sea. 

Translated  by  Rev.  II.  Martyn-Hart,  M.A.  Illustrated.  10s.  6d. 

Ostrich  Farming  in  South  Africa. 

c> 

By  Arthur  Douglass.  Illustrated.  Cloth,  6s. 


Cassell,  Petter , Galpin  <£*  Co.  : Ludgate  Hill,  London  ; Paris  ; and  New  York. 


Selections  from  Cassell , Petter , Galpin  cO  Co.’s  Volumes  ( Continued ). 

The  Encyclopaedic  Dictionary. 

By  Robert  Hunter,  M.A.,  F.G.S.,  Mem.  Bibl.  Archoeol.  Soc.,  &c.  A 
New  and  Original  Work  of  Reference  to  all  the  Words  in  the  English 
Language,  with  a Full  Account  of  their  Origin,  Meaning,  Pronunciation,  and 
Use.  Vol.  I.,  Parts  I and  2,  cloth,  10s.  6d.  each. 


Library  of  English  Literature. 

Edited  by  Prof.  Henry  Morley.  With  Illustrations  taken  from  Original 
MSS.,  &c.  Each  Vol.  complete  in  itself. 

Vol.  I.  SHORTER  ENGLISH  POEMS.  12s.  6d. 

Vol.  II.  ILLUSTRATIONS  OF  ENGLISH  RELIGION,  ns.  6d. 

Vol.  III.  ENGLISH  PLAYS,  ns.  6d. 

Vol.  IV.  SHORTER  WORKS  IN  ENGLISH  PROSE,  ns.  6d. 

Vol.  V.  LONGER  WORKS  IN  ENGLISH  VERSE  AND  PROSE,  ns.  6d. 


Dictionary  of  English  Literature. 

Being  a Comprehensive  Guide  to  English  Authors  and  their  Works.  By  W. 
Davenport  Adams.  720  pages,  extra  fcap.  4to,  cloth,  10s.  6d. 


A First  Sketch  of  English  Literature. 

By  Professor  Henry  Morley.  Crown  8vo,  912  pages,  cloth,  7s;  6d. 

Dictionary  of  Phrase  and  Fable. 

Giving  the  Derivation,  Source,  or  Origin  of  20,000  Words  that  have  a Tale 
to  Tell.  By  Rev.  Dr.  Brewer.  Enlarged,  and  Cheaper  Eaition,  cloth,  3s.  6d. 


Popular  Educator,  Cassell’s. 

New  and  thoroughly  Revised  Edition.  Vols.  I.  and  II.,  price  5s.  each.  (To 
be  completed  in  Six  Vols.) 


The  Leopold  Shakspere. 

The  Poet’s  Works  in  Chronological  Order,  and  an  Introduction  by  F.  J. 
Furnivall.  With  about  400  Illustrations.  Small  4to,  ios.  6d.  ; cloth  gilt, 
12s.  6d.  Dedicated  by  permission  to  H.R.H.  Prince  Leopold. 


Cassell’s  Illustrated  Shakespeare. 

Edited  by  Charles  and  Mary  Cowden  Clarke.  With  600  Illustrations 
by  H.  C.  Selous.  Three  Vols.,  cloth  gilt, £3  3s. 


Figure  Painting  in  Water  Colours. 

o o 

With  Sixteen  Coloured  Plates  from  Original  Designs  by  Blanche  Mac- 
arthur  (Medallist,  Royal  Academy,  1877,)  and  Jennie  Moore  (Medallist). 
With  full  Instructions  by  the  Painters.  Crown  4to,  cloth  gilt,  7s.  6d. 


blower  Painting  in  Water  Colours. 

With  Twenty.  Fac-simile  Coloured  Plates  from  Original  Designs  by  F.  E. 
Hulme.  With  Instructions.  Interleaved  with  Drawing  Paper.  Crown  4to,  5s. 


Sketching  from  Nature  in  Water  Colours. 

By  Aaron  Pen  ley.  With  Illustrations  in  Chromo-Lithography,  after 
Original  Water-Colour  Drawings.  Super-royal  4to,  cloth,  15s. 


C issell,  Petter,  Galpin  Co.  : Ludgate  Hill , London  ; Paris  ; and  New  York. 


S.  lections  fiom  Cassell ’,  ret  ter,  Galpin  % Co's  Volumes  [Continued'). 


Our  Own  Country. 

An  Illustrated  Geographical  and  Historical  Description  of  the  Chief  Places  of 
Interest  in  Great  Britain.  Vols.  I.,  II.,  & III.,  with  upwards  of  200  Illus- 
trations in  each,  7s.  6d.  each. 


Old  and  New  Edinburgh,  Cassell’s. 

Vol.  I.  With  nearly  200  Original  Illustrations,  specially  executed  for  the 
Work.  In  crown  4to,  cloth,  9s. 


The  International  Portrait  Gallery. 

In  Two  Vols.,  each  containing  20  Portraits  in  Colours,  executed  in  the  best  style 
of  Chromo-Lithography,  with  Memoirs.  Demy  4to,  cloth  gilt,  12s.  6d.  each. 

The  National  Portrait  Gallery. 

Complete  in  Four  Volumes:  Each  containing  20  Portraits,  printed  in  the 

best  style  of  Chromo-Lithography,  with  Memoirs.  Cloth  gilt,  12s.  6d.  each. 

Science  for  All. 

Vols.  I.,  IT.,  III.,  and  IV.  Edited  by  Dr.  Robert  Brown,  M.A.,  F.L.S., 
&c.,  assisted  by  Eminent  Scientific  Writers.  Each  containing  about  350 
Illustrations.  Extra  crown  4to,  cloth,  9s.  each. 


Great  Industries  of  Great  Britain. 

Complete  in  Three  Vols.,  with  about  400  Illustrations.  Extra  crown  4to, 
320  pages,  cloth,  7s.  6d.  each. 

The  Field  Naturalist’s  Handbook. 

By  the  Rev.  J.  G.  Wood  and  Theodore  Wood.  Cloth,  5s. 


The  Races  of  Mankind. 

By  Robert  Brown,  M.A.,  Ph.D.,  F.L.S.,  F.R.G.S.  Complete  in  Four 
Vols.,  containing  upwards  of  500  Illustrations.  Extra  crown  4to,  cloth  gilt, 
6s.  per  Vol.;  or  Two  Double  Vols..  ^1  is.  v 


The  Sea:  Its  Stirring  Story  of  Adventure,  Peril,  and 

Heroism.  By  F.  Whymper.  Complete  in  Four  Vols.,  each  containing 
100  Original  Illustrations.  4to,  7s.  6d.  each. 

Illustrated  Readings. 

Comprising  a choice  Selection  from  the  English  Literature  of  all  Ages.  With 
about  400  Illustrations.  Two  Vols.,  cloth,  7s.  6d.;  gilt  edges,  10s.  6d.  each. 


The  Practical  Dictionary  of  Mechanics. 

Containing  15,000  Drawings,  with  Comprehensive  and  Technicat  Descrip- 
tion of  each  Subject.  Three  Volumes,  cloth,  £3  3s. 


Studies  in  Design. 

o 

By  Christopher  Dresser,  Ph.D.,  F.L.S.,  &c.,  with  60  Original  Designs 
in  Fac-simile  Colours.  Demy  folio,  £2  3s. 


Cassell , Fetter , Galpin  <(■  Co. : Ludqate  Hill ’,  London  ; Paris  ; and  Hew  York. 


7 


Selections  front  Cassell , Fetter , Gaipin  % Co.'s  Volumes  ( Continued ). 


The  Countries  of  the  World. 

By  Robert  Brown,  M.A.,  Ph.D.,  F.L.S.,  F.R.G.S.  Complete  in  Six 
Vols.,  with  130  Illustrations  in  each.  4to,  7s.  6d.  each. 


The  Gun  and  its  Development;  with  Notes  on  Shooting. 

By  W.  W.  Greener.  Extra  fcap.  4to,  with  509  Illustrations,  21s. 


Sports  and  Pastimes,  Cassells  Book  of. 

With  more  than  800  Illustrations,  and  Coloured  Frontispiece.  768  pages, 
large  crown  8vo,  cloth,  gilt  edges,  7s.  6d. 


In-door  Amusements,  Card  Games,  and  Fireside  Fun, 

Cassell’s  Book  of.  With  numerous  Illustrations.  224  pp.,  large  crown 
8vo,  cloth,  gilt  edges,  3s.  6d. 

The  Family  Physician. 

A Modern  Manual  of  Domestic  Medicine.  By  Physicians  and  Surgeons 
of  the  Principal  London  Hospitals.  Royal  8vo,  cloth,  21s. 


The  Domestic  Dictionary. 

An  Encyclopaedia  for  the  Household.  1,280  pages,  royal  8vo,  Cheap  Edition, 
price  7s.  6d. 

Cassell’s  Dictionary  of  Cookery. 

The  Largest,  Cheapest,  and  Best  Book  of  Cookery.  With  9,000  Recipes. 
Cheap  Edition , price  7s.  6d. 

Cassell’s  Household  Guide. 

New  and  Revised  Edition.  With  Illustrations  on  nearly  every  page,  and 
Coloured  Plates.  Complete  in  Four  Vols.,  6s.  each. 

A Year’s  Cookery. 

Giving  Dishes  for  Breakfast,  Luncheon,  and  Dinner  for  Every  Day  in  the 
Year,  with  Practical  Instructions  for  their  Preparation.  By  Phillis  Browne. 
Clnap  Edition , cloth,  3s.  6d. 

A Handbook  of  Nursing,  for  the  Home  and  for  the 

Hospital.  By  C.  J.  Wood,  Lady  Superintendent  of  the  Children’s  Hospital, 
Great  Ormond  Street.  Cloth,  3s.  6d. 

What  Girls  Can  Do. 

A Bock  for  Mothers  and  Daughters.  By  Phillis  Browne.  Author  of  “A 
Year’s  Cookery,”  Ac.  Crown  8vo,  cloth,  5s. 

& Cassell,  Petter,  Gaipin  & Co.’s  Complete  Catalogue, 

containing  a List  of  Several  Hundred  Volumes,  including  Bibles  and  Religious 
Works , Fine- Art  Volumes,  Children's  Books,  Dictionaries,  Educational  Works, 
Handbooks  and  Guides,  History , Natural  History,  Household  and  Domestic 
Treatises , Science , Serials,  Ti  aids,  <Hc.  <S°r.,  sent  post  free  on  application. 

Cassell,  Fetter,  Gaipin  § Co.:  Ludgate  Hill,  London;  Fan's;  and  New  Yoik. 


lUP  Slips  for  use  in  Catalogues . 


HALL,  William.  A Biography  of  David  Cox, 
with  Remarks  on  his  Works  and  Genius.  By 
William  Hall.  Edited,  with  Additions,  by  John 
Thackray  Bunce.  Cassell,  Petter,  Galpin  & Co.  : 
London,  Paris  & New  York,  1881.  i vol.,  demy  8vo, 
pp.  xvi.  268. 


BUNCE,  John  Thackray.  A Biography  of 
David  Cox,  with  Remarks  on  his  Works  and  Genius. 
By  William  Hall.  Edited,  with  Additions,  by  John 
Thackray  Bunce.  Cassell,  Petter,  Galpin  & Co.  : 
London,  Paris  & New  York,  1881.  1 vol.,  demy  8vo, 

pp.  xvi.  268. 

COX,  David.  A Biography  of  David  Cox,  with 
Remarks  on  his  Works  and  Genius.  By  William 
Hall.  Edited,  with  Additions,  by  John  Thackray 
Bunce.  Cassell,  Petter,  Galpin  & Co.  : London,  Paris 
& New  York,  1881.  1 vol.,  demy  8vo,  pp.  xvi.  268. 


BIOGRAPHY  (A)  of  David  Cox,  with  Remarks  on 
his  Works  and  Genius.  By  William  Hall.  Edited, 
with  Additions,  by  John  Thackray  Bunce.  Cassell, 
Petter,  Galpin  & Co.  : London,  Paris  & New  York, 
1881.  1 vol.,  demy  8vo,  pp.  xvi  268. 


yy  Bs^/2.1 


RSlllill 


